


And We Let the Sky Fall

by appending_fic



Series: Self Determination [3]
Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012), Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons), Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: Abandonment, Aliens, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Backstory, Being Lost, Betrayal, Canon-Typical Violence, Die Hard References, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Escape From the Darklands, Families of Choice, Impersonation, Monster Hunters, Multi, Otto Scarbach Has Plans, Plots, Possession, Suicidal Thoughts, The Darklands, The power of friendship, schemes, suicide ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 13:02:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 73,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16063709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/appending_fic/pseuds/appending_fic
Summary: Jim and Claire's trip to the Darklands has not gone as smoothly as they expected. While they struggle to find Enrique and a way home, Otto uses the Trollhunter's absence to work on his own plans to bring Gunmar to the surface, leaving the other teens of Arcadia Oaks to try and stop him, and help bring them home.





	1. Lost and Found

**A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…**

Exactly fifty-three minutes after the Veraen attendants had led them into this room, Laira looked up from her journal. Her eyes were dim, annoyed.

"We've been here nearly an hour," she said. "This is - _rude_." She rose in a flurry of her ceremonial robes, to her full height that only came up to Serren's chin. "Come on." She turned to the door, forcing Serren to chase after her to keep her from bursting out of the waiting area into the Veraen Sentate building in a rage.

"Your - Madam, we cannot just rush out there like we _own_ the place!"

Laira fell back, scowling, but she folded only two arms, and didn't take another step toward the door. "Why not? I am an emissary of one of the greatest military powers in the universe. And certainly the one _least_ likely to raze their planet and replace it with a food court."

"And we maintain that status by not rushing about yelling at people who are merely rude to us."

Laira turned and stomped back to her chair, sitting down hard enough the chair creaked warningly. Serren chose not to mention it; if Laira were shifting gravity subconsciously, she was anxious enough that drawing attention to it would just make things worse.

"This is _important_ ," she said.

"I know, Madam."

There was a knock at the door, and Laira was looking up just as it opened to admit a Veraen...senator, Serren decided by the triangular cut of their sleeves. This one was squat, shorter than Laira, dark red skin covered over with a pattern of cracks or lines that looked something like scales. They hobbled forward, tail trailing a full five feet behind them as they took in the room with wide silver eyes. Their mouth was closed, a clear sign of displeasure.

"Ambassador," they said. "We are Mull. You are Laira. Your companion is Serren. You have come to tell us how to run our planets."

Laira tilted her head, frowning a little. Veraens were somewhat face blind, so it was unlikely Mull noticed, but it was still unprofessional.

"We are here to reach out a hand of _friendship_. Our people have never been at war, but our distance has bred...distance."

"We know you are here because of the Sleeping God."

Laira bit at her lip, shaking her head. "We have many concerns across the universe."

"You have been persecuting their people for their beliefs."

"Perse-" Laira gave a gentle chuckle. "They _did_ assassinate a member of the Akiridian royal family."

"Surely you are not so intolerant to hold an entire faith responsible for one madman's actions. _Are_ you?"

The floor underneath Laira's feet bowed, visibly, and one of her hands clenched into a fist. But she was still smiling. "Of course not. In fact, one reason we have been traveling to systems where the cu - church of the Sleeping God has a presence is to learn more about them. After all, isn't _understanding_ a necessary step in tolerance? In acceptance?"

Mull was quiet for a few moments before opening their mouth to reveal half a dozen rows of razor-sharp diamond teeth. "Ah! You must forgive our suspicion, Ambassador. The Church had expressed concerns to us, but it is clear their worry is born, too, of a lack of understanding. Come, we will show you to your rooms."

"Thank you, Mull." They followed Mull for a few moments before Laira asked, "What concerns, exactly, had they brought to you?"

"Oh, they are afraid you will make the Senate ban the worship of the Sleeping God."

"Ban a religion in _Verae_?"

Mull shrugged. "I only mention the most credible concern. Some suggested your government were hunting _down_ priests of the Sleeping God."

" _Killing_ them? We are not _savages_ , Mull."

"As we said," Mull agreed. "We are merely being cautious. For the safety of our people."

"Of course," Laira agreed. "The safety of one's people should always be paramount."

\---

**The Present, in a Galaxy Much Closer**

"Hi, Darci!"

Darci froze, glanced around hurriedly for an exit, but the movie theater was crowded and she didn't see a clear line out. So she turned and smiled as Claire jogged up to her. 

"Hey!" Darci said. "You're looking good."

Claire giggled. "Oh, _you_. You look nice, too. Here to see a movie?"

"Yeah, no one wanted to come see 'Absolved' with me. Something about true crime drama being too much for them." She shrugged, wishing she'd pressed Mary or someone to come along.

"Well, how about _I_ join you?"

Darci ran the numbers in her head, pretty certain there was no way she could get out of this. So she smiled wide. "Yeah! How about I get us some popcorn?"

Claire's face went through a complicated progression of emotions, from barely-disguised disgust to thoughtfulness, worry, and finally a neutral expression. "If you want."

"Great! Anything to drink?"

"Surprise me."

Darci rolled her eyes as she left Claire behind to go to the concession stand. It was getting tiresome, pretending to be Claire's friend.

When she knew 'Claire' was really a changeling, a _Polymorph_. She'd been so relieved when Claire had returned from the Darklands after a mere 24 hours, during which her parents had nearly started a full-blown search party, it had taken a couple of days to realize something was weird, and confirmed that _Jim_ hadn't come back.

And that neither had Enrique. Jim, Claire _might_ have left behind in the Darklands, but not _Enrique_.

Eli's theory was that the changeling, Otto, Grand Commandant of the Janus Order, was trying to keep too much attention being drawn to Claire's family, which might expose _Rico_.

Darci didn't care _why_ , but wished there was a good way to tell him to piss off without drawing too much attention and making it seem weird when the _real_ Claire got back and they were BFF's again.

So she suffered through two hours of Otto's awkward attempts at pretending to be Darci's friend before bolting and calling Eli. His phone rang two, three time, and Darci frowned. Eli was usually tethered to his phone…

"Hey, who you calling, Darci? A _boyfriend_?" Darci rolled her eyes, wondering when Otto had last spoken to a human woman.

"Just a private call. To a friend. Whose gender is irrelevant to this conversation. Which is _private_."

"Surely you can tell your girlfriends _anything_ ," Claire said with a glint in her eye.

"Yeah, well, when I get one, I _will_ tell her anything. I'll see you _later_ , Claire." Darci waited until Claire was out of earshot before trying again. Eli's phone went to voicemail, which was troubling. Eli's current state of affairs was a sort of parole; he was meant to be _available_ , honest about what he was getting up to, and be _careful_ , and in exchange, he could engage in world-saving shenanigans and keep his tiny dragon as a pet.

Darci thought back to the last couple of days for some hint where Eli would be. He'd been talking about visiting Blinky, but his mother had apparently brow-beaten the trolls in whatever tricks they'd managed to get reception at least as far down as Trollmarket, so he should have been reachable.

And that meant…

The stupid asshole had gotten himself kidnapped by something.

Okay. Deep breaths. It took three before she was calm enough to call Mary.

"Y'ello?"

"Hi, Mary, it's Darci. Do you have any idea where Eli might be?"

"Hm." When Darci spoke next, her voice was slightly distant, meaning she was on speaker. "He was sort of posting a lot about possession for a while, but he's onto yetis, now - I frankly disagree that they're the same thing as sasquatches. Huh."

"What?"

"He and _Toby_ have been hanging out a lot."

"I can't imagine _that's_ why he wouldn't be answering his phone."

"I mean, if he were otherwise...occupied."

"Mary. I am a little worried about Eli. Do you actually believe he and Toby Domzalski are currently having sex, or is this just reflexive gossip-mongering?"

"...reflexive gossip-mongering. Toby isn't the type to use sex as stress relief, and he is _clearly_ stressed. There's an obvious idea there, but I wanna check something…"

"You think they're trying to find Jim."

"I think it's a possibility. They _may_ think they need to pick up the slack with Jim gone, as if that blue dude weren't entirely capable of protecting us from a bunch of trolls."

"Oh _god_ , I forgot to mention I ran into Claire at the movie theater today."

"Ew. Have you noticed she speaks Spanish with a German accent?"

"I don't want to get into it. Do you have any leads?"

Mary exhaled. "Yeah, sorry. Nothing specific, but...Toby's depressed. Misses his bro. Ooh! Is there anywhere nearby a kid with inexplicable command over the forces of gravity could experiment under the supervision of an irresponsible fan of the weird and unexplained?"

"That's...a jump."

"Hey, I don't explain the insight, I just have it. But yeah, I'm pretty certain Eli's talked Domzalski into jumping off cliffs somewhere."

"Oh _god_ , they're both dead, aren't they?"

"Check the mountains outside town."

And while Mary might be terrible at Literature _and_ Economics, if she could find your social media page, _any_ social media page, she could get inside your head.

So Darci borrowed her dad's _non_ -work car and headed up to the mountains, deciding she was going to kill Eli if he _wasn't_ in a life-threatening solution. Though when she found his bike and, presumably, Toby's, leaned up against a tree, that part of her withered a little, replaced by fear. A loud 'caw' made her jump, nearly throw her keys at what turned out to be a crow's head.

Darci stared at the crow for a few moments before she took off in a flurry, heading back toward town.

"Hey!" Darci screamed. "If you see that feathered asshole, tell him he _owes_ me!" The crow made no sign of hearing her...or caring, at least.

Which, whatever. She was pretty sure Raum had been playing her, and Claire, given that Claire was still stuck in the Darklands after _two months_ , and Otto was hanging around pretending to be a councilwoman's daughter. And now…

She looked back at the woods, full of cougars and bears and cave systems and probably sinkholes. There was a flicker of movement, she thought, and a glow, like Toby's eyes when he got over-emotional. Darci turned to it, watching, waiting, until she saw it again.

"Toby, is that you?"

The response was distant, garbled, and Darci was two steps toward it before she paused. "Toby, I need to know if you're alright, or if you need help. I need to know if it's safe to go to you."

There was a pause, and silence, but there was a rustle, and she heard an indistinct voice fading as if walking away.

Darci set her jaw, and pulled out her phone. Okay, she didn't have context for this, but Eli had taught her what to do in a situation like this.

'Weird light in the woods' gave an array of answers about people seeing strange lights in the woods, but nothing helpful.

Not until Darci, after glancing up at the trees, added the word 'luring' to her search.

"Will-o-wisps, eh?" And while this provided an answer, it didn't provide a solution. If Darci were alone, she could just turn around and leave. But her friends had clearly been lured into the woods by the spirit, which meant she couldn't leave without them. And given there wasn't advice about how to rescue other people from the will-o-wisp, Darci had to draw on the combined wisdom of her father and Elijah Pepperjack.

Both concluded a gaggletack couldn't hurt, being made of iron and heavy enough to clock most things pretty hard in the head. Fairies or some sort of demon might mean salt could be useful; given the whole 'lost in the woods' thing, Darci figured leaving a path behind her with salt might do it. The trunk provided a bounty of road salt for the purpose.

And of course the pepper spray and baton were standard issue.

So armed, Darci ventured into the woods. The air almost immediately darkened, but the line of salt she left down behind her remained comfortingly in place when she looked back.

After a few minutes, she turned a rocky outcropping and nearly ran into another form turning the corner. Darci yelped and swung her baton at the shape; they screamed and ducked out of the way.

"Don'thurt - Darci?"

" _Eli_?"

Eli straightened, drawing his hands away from his face. He was frowning, though. "What are you doing here?"

"I tried calling you earlier and when you didn't answer, Mary and I figured you were in mortal danger."

"But what are you _doing_? There's an incredibly dangerous magical creature lurking-"

"I _know_. I've got my gaggletack, salt trail, and pepper spray, because the internet is incredibly unhelpful in how to deal with will-o-wisps."

Eli stopped, peered behind Darci, and when he straightened, wasn't frowning as much. "Well, it's not a will-o-wisp _per se_. It's a 'boitata', a fire-breathing reptile that eats...well, eyes."

"A dragon?"

"No, dragons don't exist."

"What definition of dragon are we using here? Because a fire-breathing lizard that eats people - that checks a lot of 'dragon' boxes in my head."

"Nevertheless," Eli replied. "I lost track of Toby in here, and I'm not leaving without him."

"No, I get that. What the hell are the two of you doing out here?"

"Um?"

"You'd tell me if you and Domzalski were having sex, right? We're friends."

Eli sputtered and began coughing, choking, Darci guessed, on his own spit. "No! We're-" He coughed for a minute, and when he got himself under control, his entire face was bright red. "We're not even - we're not-"

Darci raised her hands, palms wide. "Hey, no need to freak out. Mary said - well, she said she was messing with me, but I thought I'd check. I mean, _I_ wouldn't judge."

"Well, no," Eli said. "We're not - it was _one_ dance, and we've been otherwise occupied."

"Okay, you're way too squirrelly for me to feel comfortable about what's going on, even if you _aren't_ fucking in the woods."

" _Dar_ \- _anyway_ , we were...looking into ways into the Darklands. I found these stories about how sometimes people find gateways into the Shadow Realm."

" _Gate_ \- oh god, we need Lake back, because I _cannot_ keep being the voice of reason around here."

"We weren't going to go _in_! Well, _I_ wasn't. The Shadow Realm is said to be the domain of the King of Nightmares, and I don't need that."

“Okay, and Toby?”

“This mist whipped up and I lost track of him. I think it got him turned around.”

And looking around, Darci could see mist was curling around everything around her, and were it not for the narrow gap in the fog surrounding her salt trail, she might be totally lost.

“So what’s the plan?”

"Um." Eli's gaze traced a slow circuit around the portion of the woods that was visible. "I was working on that."

"You said this thing's a lizard, right? Can't we just stab it?"

"It's an endangered species!" Eli protested.

"Well, if it's hunting us, _we're_ endangered." The underbrush just near Darci rustled and Darci, keyed up by the enroaching mist and talk of something eating _her eyes_ , kicked out. She felt an impact and heard a high hiss, and on instinct, yanked out her gaggletack and hurled it at her feet.

A fat brown snake with gleaming blue eyes recoiled away from her, hissing with a black tongue, its fangs pitted and smoking.

Darci screamed; she saw Eli flinch away from her as she pulled out her baton and swung.

She may have blanked out for a few moments, because the next thing she recalled was Eli's voice, cautious, a little distant.

"Darci? The boitata's dead; you can stop swinging. Unless it's therapeutic or something."

Darci looked down, where the boitata lay in a twisted heap. "Er."

"Are you okay?"

Darci took a deep breath, finding her hands shaking when she fumbled for a tissue or something to wipe away the traces of…

Okay, _something_ in that snake - blood or venom - was eating away at her baton. _Damn_ ; she'd had this one for a while.

"Darci?"

"I'm fine. You didn't say it was a _snake_."

"I didn't…" Eli edged closer. "Didn't know it was relevant?"

"Well, it would've been nice to _know_ before it startled me."

"I'll keep that in mind." Eli twisted his head around, examining the corpse, before kneeling next to it and pulled out a multitool. He then-

"What the _hell_ , Pepperjack?"

Eli looked up from where he had a set of pliers braced against one of the snake's fangs. He gave Darci a weak smile and twisted at the fang, which shifted a little. "There's a couple of extra phylacteries floating around Trollmarket after...you know, and Draal asked me to keep an eye out for anything they might be able to make gems out of."

"That's a tooth."

Eli shrugged. "There's this alchemical process that can crystallize dead flesh - it's how trolls and human sorcerers can make gems to go in phylacteries. And-" He grunted as the fang finally parted from the snake, and wrapped it in several layers of cloth. "Things like fangs, eyes, hearts, tend to collect a lot of a creature's magic."

"You're not going to pull that thing's heart out, are you?" Darci may have gotten through biology class without incident, but wasn't certain she could handle watching Eli crack open that thing's ribcage.

"Not...its _heart_."

"Okay, I'll just stand over here and we can look for Toby when you're done."

Darci did, in fact, trying to ignore any hint of sound or motion from the direction of Eli and the snake. It took a minute before he stood, no evidence of gore or...what he had taken from the snake.

"Okay, let's go find Domzalski. And Eli?"

"Yeah?"

"You two aren't allowed to go off on your own anymore."

\---

**The Present, in a Dimension Further Away Than One Would Hope**

"It's been two months, Jim." 

Jim huffed, but under Arthur's stern green gaze, nodded. "Yeah."

"Do you have _any_ idea where Enrique is? Where the Nursery is?"

"No."

"Now, I've been getting basically, you know, _impressions_ , but you and Claire have been running around in circles, avoiding Gumm Gumms and Gruesomes, hunting Nyarlagroths for meat, basically dicking around, right?"

Jim winced. "I wouldn't say it like _that_ , but...yeah."

Arthur folded his arms, kicking the wall of their training grounds, where he'd been leaning through the entire conversation. "Then why are we still here?"

"What do you want me to do? Tell Claire to leave Enrique here?"

Arthur shook his head, and for the first time since Jim had met him, Arthur looked...uncomfortable. Worried. "I was going to suggest...you leave _her_ behind."

"I can't do that!"

"You _can_! I know how Claire feels, but she's lost all sense of perspective! She'd rather drag both of you to your deaths than admit she needs a better plan!" And Jim wasn't certain he'd seen Arthur look _upset_ before, certainly not when Jim had been risking his life _before_. But his hands were clenched at his sides, face twisted, the hint of tears in his eyes.

He was _shaking_ , and Jim wasn't sure why, not when he'd spent months watching Jim throw himself into battle with trolls and Nazis.

"I sort of meant I _can't_ get out of here without her _help_."

Arthur bit at his lip, shrugged. " _I_ might."

And Jim pushed himself up from where he'd been sitting, half-hunched, heart racing. There'd been moments in the past months when odd coincidences, strange, unexpected things happened, that, if they hadn't _saved_ his life, had definitely kept Jim _safer_ than he'd be otherwise. The phenomenon had so far gone without explanation, and he'd worried it might be something dangerous.

But _this_ was a hint of a source, and a reason, and that was enough to pique Jim's curiosity.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I can - and I haven't, really, a lot - sort of _take over_ for a second." Arthur waved his hands in front of him. "But I promise, I don't do it - like at all - unless you're in _real danger_."

"So you're a _wizard_? I thought you were a knight or something."

"A guy can be two things," Arthur retorted, scowling. "Anyway, it's just shadow magic - anyone can do it, if they've got a spark of magic in them."

Jim felt a twist of uncertainty in his stomach. "The… _other_ Trollhunters can't do that, can they?"

Arthur scoffed. "If you're worried about Sloane stealing your body and running around doing whatever he wants with it, don't. He hasn't been in here nearly as long as I have."

"And what about Tiffany?"

There was a pause while Arthur considered that, which was more comforting than if he'd dismissed the idea out of hand. Tiffany was helpful, intelligent, but Sloane had infected Jim with a fraction of his natural suspicion, and he couldn't figure Tiffany out. But she had an answer for everything, and Jim wouldn't put it past her to have researched a way out of Jim's head.

"No," Arthur said at last. He sounded confident, at least, which was reassuring.

"So...you can make me do whatever?"

Arthur shrugged, nodded, and then waggled his hand uncertainly. "For like a second, if I'm trying to save your life, yeah, pretty much. But unless you, you know, _let_ me, I can't do much beyond that."

" _Let_ you? Like, let you take my body out for a spin one afternoon?"

"I - yeah."

"Well, get me out of here and you can have alternate Saturdays."

Arthur had fallen back against the wall, though he ducked his head away. "I might have...exaggerated how easy it was to get you out."

"Exaggerated? How much?"

"Well...I'm not a hundred percent certain I can get you back on my own. I'd need...um, something."

"The Shadowstaff."

Arthur nodded.

"I was on the fence leaving Claire on her own _with_ the Shadowstaff. Leaving her here _alone_ , _defenseless_?"

"A real sorceress is never _defenseless_ ," Arthur started to protest, but ducked down in response to Jim's glare. "Yeah, okay. I just hoped…" He shrugged. "Don't wanna be stuck with _another_ genocidal monster."

It was something to think on when Claire shoved Jim awake for his turn to take watch. He thought she might have gotten him too early; it was hard to tell, here, where he had no reference for the passage of time. But even if she had, he wasn't about to complain. She'd been exhausting herself pushing to find Enrique.

If she keeled over from the strain, Jim would probably risk letting Arthur drag all three of them home, even though he was certain he didn't have a handle on Arthur's real motivation.

Although he _was_ right that letting Gunmar get his hands on the Amulet of Daylight would not be good.

But Arthur was also right that staying here, with no leads, wearing themselves down, wasn't going to help anyone, least of all Enrique.

So when Jim woke Claire, he was resolved, and over their breakfast of Nyarlagroth steak (they had another week of supplies left, Jim thought, before they'd have to go through the arduous process of hunting _another_ one), spoke up.

"We can't keep this up forever, Claire."

"I'm going to _find him_ ," Claire growled in response.

"And I'm not saying we won't! But we might not during _this_ trip. We might need to take off, regroup-"

"I _can't_."

"Claire, I'm not saying we should abandon your brother, but running off half-cocked after the battle, without your - _not_ Enrique - along as a guide-"

"His name's Rico."

"Um. Rico, sure. Running off like that wasn't the best plan, and I'm pretty sure if we keep pushing, we're both going to get killed, and then where will Enrique be?"

Claire wasn't looking at Jim, instead staring down at the Shadowstaff in her lap. She was quiet so long Jim was afraid she'd fallen asleep, and he nudged her leg.

Claire shook her head. "You don't understand, Jim. I _can't_." When she looked up, her eyes were wet with tears. "I can't _want_ to be home enough to cross the Shadow Realm. Not without _Enrique_. So yeah, we might both die. But Enrique's our only way out of here, so unless you've got a plan-"

"Well. It might be time to do the thing we agreed we _weren't_ going to do."

The small gasp from Claire told him she _knew_ , but she asked the question, Jim bet, just to be sure. "You mean...Gunmar?"

Jim nodded.


	2. Friend or Foe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Claire meet their foe face-to-face, and an unexpected ally.

**Twenty-five Years Ago, In an Undisclosed Location**

"Agent Domzalski, can you give us a sitrep?"

Sebastian hissed through his teeth, stepping carefully over the body of something that could not possibly be human. Some sort of frog, he thought, though whatever had dropped on it had destroyed any hope of positive identification.

"I'm alive, unharmed. But it looks like someone else hit the place before I got here." Whoever they were had done something _nasty_ to the people - the human people - who'd been here, and Sebastian offered up a small prayer (to whom? he didn't know - Papa had sworn off of church after the war) that whatever had done this was gone.

He was carefully cataloguing what to put in the official report, and what to spin along to his _real_ superiors, when he reached the place that had probably seen the most fighting. There were gouges in the floor, the ceiling, and - footprints _imprinted_ into the wall. There were half a dozen bodies scattered about, bones and organs crushed as if someone _very large_ had been jumping on them.

"Agent Domzalski?"

He knelt down to examine a pile of debris that proved to be the remains of a computer. And inside…

"Huh. Looks like our friend was here just to fuck shit up, because this hard drive looks intact."

"Yeah, I'm gonna have to ask you to give that to me."

Sebastian looked up, slowly, to find a woman - a little shorter than Sebastian, hair a delicate, almost white, blond, cut short to her shoulder, eyes a bright cyan. She had a gun pointed in Sebastian's direction, but loosely. He had a sneaking suspicion she had it for the look of it, given that none of the dead guys had been shot.

Not that he was going to _relax_ until she put that thing away.

"Agent Domzalski?"

Ignoring the slightly frantic demands of his handler in his ear, Sebastian raised his hands slowly. "Let's calm down here. I'm not here to hurt you."

"You don't know that."

Sebastian nodded. "Alright. I _hope_ I'm not here to hurt you. And I _definitely_ hope you're not here to hurt _me_."

The woman shrugged and, gun lowered but still in her hand, sauntered toward Sebastian. "Well, none of _your_ type have tried to kill me yet, so I could be persuaded to be reasonable."

"My...type?" There were about a dozen ways she could answer this, and Sebastian knew how to react to maybe half of them.

"Spooks," she replied. " _American_ ones, at least."

"I'm not a-"

"Anyway, now that we're acquainted, I'll be taking this." And Sebastian realized only a moment too late that he'd let his guard down, when the woman snatched the hard drive from his grip and spun on her heels. She was at the nearest window before Sebastian was on his feet, and by the time he reached the window, she was gone, no sign of her in the crowds below.

"Agent Domzalski?"

"This one's… _totally_ on me."

\---

**The Present, in a Dimension Further Away Than One Would Hope**

"We're not actually here to fight Gunmar," Jim said, tightening his grip on Daylight.

"Right," Claire agreed.

"We're going in, finding some sort of map, and then getting out."

"Mhm."

"No fighting unless it's absolutely necessary."

"I _know_ ," Claire said. "We've been over this a dozen times."

"Yeah, just...making sure we remember the plan."

Claire shot Jim a scowl. "You think I'm going to run off and try to assassinate Gunmar rather than find my baby brother?"

"No," Jim muttered. "I'm trying to remind _myself_ we're not going to assassinate Gunmar while we're here."

"Yeah, I'd stay away from him. He's got this thing, the Decimaar Blade, that can make you, like, his _slave_."

"Actually not my biggest worry. But thanks for the advice."

Jim wasn't certain _what_ part of facing Gunmar worried him the most, but the existence of the Decimaar Blade wasn't it. Maybe to someone for whom death was a gateway to something that might be pretty good, having their will (possibly their soul) ripped out would seem pretty bad. But being trapped inside the Amulet of Daylight, possibly aware of what Gunmar was doing with it, unable to do anything about it, was the worst fate Jim could imagine, so having his will torn from his body _could_ be a step up.

Plus, you know, the grim, dead-eyed armored warriors patrolling the long bridge approaching Gunmar's fortress, were a more immediate concern than _Gunmar_.

Claire poked Jim's side. "Any ideas how to get in?"

"Can't we - you know - _bamf_ in?"

"Bam - where have I heard that before?"

"Like - _teleport_?"

"No," Claire replied. "Even if it's technically possible, I am _not_ teleporting somewhere I can't picture."

"Because-"

" _Splinching_!" Claire snapped.

"O...kay."

"What?" Claire demanded, eyes narrowing.

"No, I get it. This Amulet of Daylight thing makes me feel like Sailor Moon."

"Yeah, what's with the dorky catchphrase?"

Jim shrugged. "I can't get it to work without the catchphrase like, 90 percent of the time."

"Hm. This Merlin guy must be full of himself."

"How about we discuss Merlin's self-confidence issues once we're back in our own dimension with Enrique? And until then, we can, like, brainstorm our way into this imposing fortress? Like, what if we bamf past the guards and just run?"

"Can you either stop using that word or explain what it means?"

"Same thing as 'apparate'. It's from a comic. So…"

"I don't know. 'Run like hell' sounds like a Darci plan. What's the Jim in you saying?"

_Arthur_ wanted Jim to book it. Tiffany and Sloane had been curiously silent on the subject. And Jim…

Just wanted to go home.

"We could try an aerial assault."

"You got wings tucked away somewhere under all that armor?"

"No, I - I meant teleport like, fifteen feet above the battlements." Jim felt a moment of uncertainty. "Is that what they're called?"

"Fifteen - you want to break a leg? Not all of us can make ourselves light as a feather, Lake."

"Ten, then! I don't know - anything seems better than a frontal assault!"

"How about being attacked by a dozen trolls before we get in?"

"That's a really dumb plan."

"Unfortunately, it looks like it's the plan we're going with. Incoming!"

Jim jerked his head up, finding, yes, about a dozen of the empty-eyed warriors stampeding toward them. 

"Do you have any tricks beside thinking with portals?" Jim asked.

"You got any beside beating things with sticks?"

Jim rolled his eyes and stepped in front of Claire as two of the trolls drew close enough to swing their heavy blades at him. He blocked one sword and sidestepped another, kicking the blade wide enough it wouldn't threaten Claire. Another troll lumbered up, but vanished into a hole that appeared under their feet. Jim, wishing he'd had time to get another magic stone to stick in the amulet to replace the ones the Archmage had removed, battered Daylight against one troll's armor, ducking underneath their companion's horizontal swing to stab the blade into their calf. The troll fell back, scrabbling at the air, as they passed through a hole that appeared behind them, taking Daylight with them as they fell into the Shadow Realm.

"Oh, fuck! Sorry!"

"It's okay," Jim grunted, reforming Daylight in his hand as a trio of trolls joined the battle. "Merlin clearly expected Trollhunters to lack the coordination to walk and hold things at the same time." He swept low, taking down a pair of trolls, standing just as one of them lost their head when a portal snapped closed at neck height.

He winced.

And then it was stab, slice, duck, watch a guy get shoved into the depths of the space between worlds. It quickly became oddly routine, the troll warriors showing little creativity, no deviation from their patterns. Apparently, ripping someone's will out did not leave a lot of room for tactical thinking. Which, if Gunmar's army were made up just of _these_ dudes, getting into and out of his fortress wouldn't be a problem.

And then something slammed into the ground with enough force to send Jim to his knees. He heard Claire yelp and then Jim looked up.

A part of him expected Gunmar, but that was foolish. Why would the king of the Darklands bother to fight two random intruders?

The troll was...close to thirty feet tall, wiry muscles across their whole form. Their skin was pale as alabaster, pearlescent lines tracing rainbows across their arms and face; cloth the color of rust wrapped around their torso and legs. A pair of horns framed their square face, and half a dozen more twisted up into a shape like a crown. Their eyes were so unlike the other Gumm Gumm warriors', like dragon breath opal, yellow and violet gleaming dangerously. 

" _Trollhunter_ ," they crowed in a high, musical voice. "Such a treasure to see you here!" They opened their mouth, baring fangs the length of Jim's arm, and displayed a set of claws coated in a dark matte metal.

A portal flickered into existence near them, and they laughed, reached up, and _punched_ through it, sending shards of black ice spinning away from them. They twisted to face Claire, eyes flickering as they did so. "And the _skathe-hrün_! What a catch!" They slammed their hand down around Claire like a cage, grinning when she spun around and stabbed their hand with the sharp end of the staff.

Jim lunged forward, slamming Daylight into the troll's ankle - where the Achilles tendon would be on a human, but trolls probably didn't even _know_ about Achilles. Light sparked and reflected off their skin, and then the troll reached down, grabbing Jim tightly around the torso. Struggling against the grip, Jim wished he'd gotten something, _anything_ to power up the Amulet of Daylight.

There was a scream from below; Jim saw a flash of something like lightning made of shadows as the troll recoiled from Claire. They snarled and snapped their free arm back down, grabbing the Shadowstaff and yanking it up, forcing her to let go or lose her arm. The troll then stuck the Shadowstaff between their teeth and grabbed the relatively defenseless Claire.

"Nw, l't's shee hut Gunnar has't say a'out this."

The brief, harrowing journey along stone bridges that looked too fragile to hold their captor nevertheless gave Jim ample time to regret not forcing some time to train and strategize with Claire. He didn't know how much good it would have done, but _Toby_ could have come up with something, he was sure.

The fortress was almost too small to fit their captor, who ducked their head to move through the passages until they stepped out, straight, into a room that looked like a dark reflection of the Heroes' Forge. It was empty, however, save for the dead-eyed warriors standing around the perimeter. And the throne on which was sprawled Gunmar.

His skin was the same shade as Bular's, though blue lines glowed within it. One eye was scarred and closed, the other glowing the same blue as the lines along his skin. His horns were like curved blades rising from his forehead. He wore a battle-skirt or kilt, and one hand rested on the pommel of a sword that looked to be made of crystal that glowed with the same shade.

The giant troll sank to their knees, bowing before Gunmar, as they held out Jim and Claire to their king.

"Lord Gunnar."

"What are you - get that thing out of your mouth, it's a holy relic!" The giant troll looked around for a moment before spitting the Shadowstaff out onto the floor. "Dictatious, retrieve that!"

"Yes, your Highness."

Dictatious? Where had Jim heard that name before?

And then a troll scuttled into his field of view, and Jim's first thought was, 'Blinky?'

But he was more elongated, paler, _older_ , if Jim was judging right. And Blinky had mentioned an older brother who'd died…

Dictatious grabbed up the Shadowstaff and hurried to Gunmar's side.

"Hey, that's mine!" Claire shouted, struggling anew against the giant troll's grip.

"It is the Pale Lady's," Dictatious retorted, "and not for the likes of mortals to wield."

"It's _**mine**_!" Claire repeated. "I had to go into a giant troll's _stomach_ for that!"

"And yet...it is now ours. You have done well, Gruthark."

"I _know_. I have brought the Trollhunter, and one who played at the power our goddess once mastered.”

Gunmar’s face twisted into a brief expression of annoyance; if Dictatious’ behavior was any indication, Gunmar preferred his lackies bowing and scraping. “Set the girl down and step aside. I will talk to her.”

Gruthark dropped Claire, who fell to the ground with a startled grunt. Then the giant troll, both hands now holding Jim in place, stepped to the edge of the arena.

Gunmar hopped off his throne, a quick, graceful motion that proved him more dextrous than Jim might have expected. Swinging the glowing sword over his shoulder, the troll king ambled forward until he stood just in front of Claire, towering over her as he grinned.

“I can see you possess the Skathe-Hrün, human. It is a tool made to serve our lady Morgana in her conquest of the surface world. It is _right_ , then, that you join us. Make your hand an extension of the Pale Lady’s own.”

“Get bent,” Claire spat out. “You kidnapped my little brother, _thousands_ of other people’s families.”

There was a moment of silence; Jim couldn’t breathe, certain if Gunmar just decided to kill Claire, there wasn’t anything he could do.

And then Gunmar swung the Decimaar Blade down at Claire. 

Jim screamed.

It took a moment to realize Gunmar _hadn't_ bisected Claire, but was holding the Decimaar Blade inches from Claire's face. Blue sparks danced between the blade's edge and Claire's face; Jim twisted his hand to try and summon Daylight, but Gruthark tightened their grip around him until he couldn't breathe. Claire's eyes were distant, slightly vacant as Gunmar lowered the blade slowly, sparks blending into bands of dark blue light as the blade drew closer.

And then the blade stopped. Gunmar frowned, peering down. The line between blade and skin was dark, almost black, and Claire seemed to have gathered her wits back, as she was glaring back at Gunmar as he pressed against the blade.

"Surrender...your… _will_!" Gunmar snarled.

"Or what?" Claire snapped. "You'll _kill_ me? _Bring it_ , King Gummy!"

"Your Highness!" Dictatious, Shadowstaff tight in his hands, scrambled to Gunmar's side. "I feel it would be wise to return to this child at a later time. The _Trollhunter_ is the far greater threat."

"You are right, Dictatious." Gunmar set the blade aside, offering Claire a wide grin. "These two have strong wills, but if we give them time to settle, I think they may prove more pliable."

An hour later, they were sitting in adjoining caves sealed off with strange, translucent crystal.

"I blame you," Claire muttered.

" _Me_? How is this _my_ fault?"

" _You're_ the Trollhunter. We were captured by _trolls_. Do the math."

"Well, maybe if I'd had time to _prepare_ for this, we wouldn't be in this position."

"Oh, no, I assure you, no matter how much time you had to prepare, you would have ended up firmly in our grasp." Dictatious, Shadowstaff held in his hands, paced in front of Jim's cell. He paused, smiling, when he saw Jim watching. "But then, now that you are here, it is possible we are in a position to help one another."

"What?"

Dictatious' top two eyes narrowed. "You will find, if you had an opportunity to interrogate the Gumm Gumms, that we are not, as a whole, _fond_ of the Darklands. They are, to be frank, the _pits_."

"And what's that to us?"

Dictatious glanced sidelong at Claire. "I've heard you are here seeking your brother."

"And what if I am?"

"You'd need to find the Nursery," Dictatious replied. "And given the two months you've been running around the place, you've had no luck finding it. Which makes it _lucky_ you've found someone who knows _exactly_ where it is."

\---

**The Present, in a Galaxy Much Closer**

Steve tapped at the edge of his cup, an irregular pattern no one was close enough to complain about. He'd ordered some hideous mix of milk and syrup because the smell of black coffee reminded him of the break room at the Order. The alternative, it seemed, was no better.

But he needed something to do while waiting for Nuñez. She'd called him basically out of the blue, and Steve's options were sit here and pretend to drink coffee or wonder if he'd done something to offend her.

...Lately, he meant.

But he'd stayed out of everyone's way after the assault on Trollmarket, until Claire Nuñez had called him up to meet about something.

He was trying not to freak out about the possibility it might have something to do with his time in the Order of Dawn; he'd seen some of the shit she'd done to guys in Trollmarket. And while Pepperjack might have convinced the _trolls_ to leave him alone (or maybe had never told them? But Lake knew, and _he_ must have - Steve shook away the train of thought), it didn't guarantee someone like Nuñez wouldn't have something to say about it.

He reached up to his neck, where the collar of his shirt concealed Patience's phylactery. He'd conned Coach Lawrence into time at the batting cages at school, where he'd spent hours training using Deya's Heart to dodge, and was pretty confident he could avoid her, or her weird little portals. If worse came to worse, he could always just disappear.

"Hey...Steve."

Steve jerked up to meet Claire's gaze. She was wearing a sundress, of a shade of yellow Steve hadn't seen Claire in since fifth grade when her parents decided she could dress herself. She was smiling at him, and Steve realized there was another possibility he hadn't considered.

He spent a moment trying to figure out how you let someone down because you were too busy training to save the world from assholes to be dating, before Claire rapped at the table.

"Hey! Are you going to get me a drink, or…"

Oh god, this _was_ a date, and Steve was going to fuck up and get himself killed by an enraged sorceress. A long history had established that, status as star quarterback and a pretty nice face aside, Steve did not understand women, and that annoyed them. A _lot_.

"Sure, fine, coffee, right?"

"Light roast, black, large. _Danke_!"

"Yeah, you're welcome." Steve rolled his eyes as he waited in line; Nuñez probably thought it was cute peppering her statements with random Spanish words. Well not everyone heard Spanish all the time at home; _some_ people were struggling to maintain a 'C' average. When he returned to the table, Claire was sitting still, straight, hands on the table, flashing Steve a wide smile when she saw him.

"Delightful!" She took the coffee and just, _downed_ it, not even caring it was like, a hundred billion degrees or something (two hundred, right? That's what you cooked coffee at). When she slammed her empty cup back down on the table, she was still grinning. "Now, I suppose you wonder why I asked you out here tonight."

"Sort of? I mean, if it's about the Order of Dawn, I got _out_. I'm done with them."

"Nothing like that." Claire grabbed Steve's hand and stood up, tugging him after her. "Come on, I've got something I want you to see."

She was moving fast enough Steve had to hop after her, at least until he caught her gait and could just jog as she wound her way from downtown toward the forested foothills.

"Hey, Nuñez, I'm flattered and all, but I've got, like, training and school and shit, and don't really have time for a girlfriend-"

She paused, mid-step, turned, and for a second, her face was twisted, _disgusted_ , and Steve felt a flare of indignation.

"I'm sorry," she said, voice sweet, mild. "I think I've given you the wrong idea. Come on." She tugged him again, forcing Steve to follow, even more confused than when he thought she wanted to go into the woods to make out.

Because she stopped in a wide, loose clearing, took a step back, and looked up at Steve. "So."

"Okay, what's this about, Nu˜ez?"

"It's about your phylactery," she said.

" _My_ \- I don't know what you think about the Order's operations, but they didn't just hand those things out to kids."

"True," Claire agreed. "But at Trollmarket, there was _one_ member of the Order of Dawn who was conspicuously absent. There was nothing going on that night that would have demanded Patience's attention, which means the only thing that would have kept her out of commission was...being out of commission. And no one _else_ in that battle had her phylactery, which means it was taken from her, and _Eli_ certainly didn't have it. And that leaves...the only person with a connection to the Order of Dawn who _wasn't_ at Trollmarket that night."

"Like _hell_ I wasn't there! Those bastards-" Steve snapped his mouth shut when he realized two things.

First, Claire was talking about the Order, about Patience, like she _knew_ them, which Claire Nuñez did _not_.

Second, _'danke' wasn't a Spanish word_.

"You're a Polymorph." He wished he could say that had come out cool, but Steve's voice squeaked on the last word - because Polymorphs were the most dangerous changelings - possibly more dangerous than some full-blooded trolls. They could turn into anyone, and if they were creative enough, into _anything_ , even things that didn't exist.

Claire's smile went sharp, sharper as Steve saw fangs, and he scrambled back away from her, at least until he heard the growls behind him.

"Tch. Steven. Do you think I brought you out here _alone_?" Steve saw a squat creature clamber down a tree behind not-Claire, a _goblin_ , grinning as it saw Steve looking. "The goblins get restless indoors. If you feel like running, feel free to do so - the goblins do need to stretch their legs - and practice their hunting. Because I can see you considering using that damned phylactery to disappear. So allow me to remind you about goblins' _excellent sense of smell_."

"Chaaaakaaa," Steve heard behind him, and his blood ran cold. Goblins ran in packs large enough that Steve might not be able to stay out of their grasp, and they weren't the gentle option when it came to chasing people down.

He raised his hands slowly. "Look, you're asking about the phylactery, and yeah, sure, I took it off of Patience. But I'm out of this whole 'trolls-versus-humans' thing, okay? I'm not wearing stuff so I can leap into Trollhunting at a moment's notice."

Claire nodded slowly. Her smile widened, slightly, and her teeth blunted. "So we go to your house, nice and friendly, and get it, and I won't have to make my goblins hurt you."

There was a confused sound behind Steve, and then, "Wakka?"

"What?" Claire looked up past Steve, face crinkling into an ugly scowl. "Of _course_ you're going to hurt him. Kill him, if it's necessary."

"Cha!"

"You've never objected _before_."

"Wakka! Wakka-chaka, haka Wa!"

Steve turned his head slightly, unwilling to take his gaze off of not-Claire, but needing to see what was going on behind him. There was a goblin there, eyes glowing in the dark, enough to illuminate a mustache that looked like it had been drawn on in permanent marker. The goblin gave Steve a wide, toothy grin before snapping around to not-Claire, snarling.

" _Chaka_."

Not-Claire snapped out a hand; wicked-looking claws appeared at the end of her fingers. "If your impertinence continues, you can _easily_ be replaced."

And Steve wasn't going to sit here and listen to a guy threaten what was basically a bright _dog_ , so he charged at not-Claire. She was fast, he had to give her that, as she shifted back a step, raising her claws to slash at Steve.

But Deya's Grace spread its power over the number of people you were paying attention to. You could dance through a melee if not too many people were focusing on you, and could do pretty well against five, six guys trying to hurt you, but one person?

When you were certain there were no other threats around?

_No one_ was good enough to lay a hand on you.

Steve ducked the slash, punched up into not-Claire's stomach. It was like punching rock, though, leaving his hand stinging, and when he looked up, her skin was shifting, bright lines spreading across it, arms elongating, and Steve remembered why Polymorphs were so dangerous.

"It makes this _much_ easier that you're actually _wearing_ it," the Polymorph growled. "No playing nice, just-" she (he? it?) snapped her-his-whatever's teeth, swallowed, before giving Steve a nasty grin with a long, reptilian face. A tail swept around at foot height, which Steve easily hopped over, but he didn't have a _weapon_ , because he hadn't expected to be attacked by what - _who_ ever was masquerading as Claire Nuñez (he should probably warn Pepperjack; he was close with Darci Scott, who did not need an evil Polymorph pretending to be her best friend).

But then something grabbed Steve and yanked him back; he struggled, until the mustachioed goblin hopped onto his chest. "Wakka chaka!" it snapped, and suddenly, Steve was being carried - _manhandled_ \- away from not-Claire as half a dozen other goblins scampered around its legs, sending it stumbling as it tried to swat them.

"What the _fuck_?"

"Chakka wa cha-chakka," the mustachioed one, clearly some sort of alpha or mayor or _something_ , replied as it ran along with the crowd of goblins holding Steve up and just _booking it_.

And yeah, maybe Steve didn't get the _nuance_ of their weird chattering, but he was pretty sure this was payback for freeing them from the Order of Dawn.

Which, hey, unexpected benefit of saving people's lives, even if they were weird dog-troll things.

An unearthly scream rang across the night, and the goblins began moving faster. Whoever not-Claire was, they couldn't keep up, at least not before the goblins deposited Steve just at the edge of Arcadia's actual main street. Most of them scattered, except for the mustachioed one, who stood at attention in front of Steve.

"Wa wa chak," it said, steady, solemn.

"Yeah, thanks, dude." Steve knelt down and held out his fist. The goblin stared, until Steve took its hand, curled it into a fist, and bumped it against his own. "Good job. I'll see you around."

He turned, only to pause after a few steps, suspicious, and turn, finding the goblin at his heels. "Dude? Come on, we're even, you can go back to your other goblin dudes."

The goblin shook its head vigorously. "Chaaaa."

Again, lacking nuance, but given the way it followed Steve all the way home, he got the point.

Which was a fucking nuisance, trying to keep the goblin hidden from his mom, but as Steve had no idea how to get out of a goblin life debt, it was probably the only option.


	3. Ten Million Fireflies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's an emergency in Trollmarket. Toby and Darci are on the case.

**Twenty-three Years Ago, In an Undisclosed Location**

"We really have to stop meeting like this, Agent Domzalski."

Sebastian didn't look up from the computer terminal - his mystery woman had, on at least one occasion, used his momentary distraction to deny him some vital intelligence.

"Maybe, if you agreed to cooperate with us, we wouldn't keep duplicating each other's work."

The mystery woman made a quiet, doubtful noise. They'd had this exchange a few times, and he knew what response he'd get.

"I don't think I'd be willing to offer the same amount of cooperation as your people would like. I'm not exactly here for Ma's apple pie. Not a baseball fan, either."

Sebastian kept up his work - figuring out the mystery woman, who _no one_ at _either_ of Sebastian's offices could identify, was secondary to the work of protecting America from the dangers of unexplored phenomena and undocumented entities.

Magic. Aliens. Weird crap like that, which even the _other_ office preferred discussed in vague enough terms that if their files were declassified they wouldn't sound delusional.

These guys, for instance, operated a black market in relics made from the bones of sorcerers, and Sebastian was trying to track down buyers, or sources, or _something_ that could cramp up an organization that could not _possibly_ be making America safer.

But he would remiss if he didn't _try_ to figure out mystery woman. "Who _are_ you here for?"

"Well, as long as I'm stuck here alone, myself."

"Stuck...where, exactly?"

"Oh, come on, Agent Domzalski, you're a bright boy. _You_ can figure it out." 

"You're not _dead_ , are you?"

"Dead? No, not yet. Not so long as I stay one step ahead of _my_ friends." There was a sense of movement, of a presence behind him, and then it departed. "Whom these jokers appear to have nothing to do with."

Sebastian turned as the mystery woman walked away. "Come on - can you give me anything? I don't even know your name."

She paused at the window (she did so love making an exit that way), and gave Sebastian a little smile. "Laira. And maybe I'll tell you more once you've proven you deserve it."

_Deserved_ it? How the hell did he do _that_?

...Maybe figure who she was trying to avoid and do something about it?

Maybe keep quiet how he was almost _certain_ she was an alien.

...Though that was more 'basic human decency' than something that would earn him points.

What _did_ you get someone you were certain was an alien spy pursuing mysterious objectives that might be hostile to America's interests?

...Flowers probably wouldn't cut it.

\---

**The Present, in a Galaxy Much Closer**

The shrill ringing of Toby’s phone dragged him awake; he had a moment of excitement when he fumbled for it before he saw it was Blinky's number. He wasn’t certain why he still hoped every time the phone rang it was Jim, finally back from the Darklands.

But this wasn’t time to lament his missing friend (he, at least, didn’t have to put up with a changeling wandering around pretending to be Jim, the way Claire’s friends did); the trolls were pretty good at keeping their calls to daylight hours, meaning this was an emergency.

"Hello?"

"Tobias! This is Blinky."

"I know. This is your number."

"It is imperative you come to Trollmarket immediately. There's a...problem."

“Sort of got that from the...three a.m. call. What’s up?”

There was a deep murmur in the background, and a retort of, “It is not nearly as serious as-“ and then the sound of a brief struggle.

"Wingman? Get Dr. Lake."

"Aaarrrgghh?” Toby sat up, certain now he was going to have to get up. "Is everyone alright?"

"...No one dead. Need humans to help, though."

“Yeah, okay.” Toby shoved off his mattress, tweaking his weight enough that the angle sent him arcing to his dresser. “Need me to call Eli or anyone?”

“Mulder grounded.”

Which was fair. Mrs. Pepperjack had _not_ approved of Toby’s and Eli’s hunt for the lair of the Nightmare King. Toby hadn’t been sure himself except that every day Jim was gone was another he could have gotten hurt or killed.

It was a little reassuring that they’d called Toby instead of Eli, then; he’d risk his mother’s ire for a _real_ emergency.

“I’d still like some backup. I’m gonna call Darci, see if she and Mary want to help.”

“And Dr. Lake.”

“I am _fine_ ,” Toby heard Blinky protesting in the background, which was enough reason to get her. Blinky was a poor judge of his state of health, given how they’d discovered he’d been shot only several hours _after_ the Battle of Fading Dawn (and trolls sometimes had a knack for naming shit, Toby would give them that.).

“Yeah, give us a half hour or so.”

“Have horngazel, right?”

“Um…” Toby wasn’t certain; he’d usually relied on Jim or Eli to get him into Trollmarket. “You can’t just let me in?”

“Can’t leave the library.”

And that...was a little worrying. “Okay, I’ll handle it.”

Toby pulled on some Trollhunting clothes (close-fitting, breathable, sturdy, not nearly as many pockets as Eli preferred) and swung by Nana’s room, knocked until she poked out her head.

“Toby?”

“Me and Dr. Lake need to head to Trollmarket.”

“Nothing serious, is it?”

“It’s three in the morning, so...maybe?”

“Well, tell Barbara to join us for dinner when you get back, alright? It can’t be good, hanging around that empty house alone.”

“Will do!”

Toby called Darci on his way downstairs. It took four rings before she picked up.

“Domzalski? Is someone dead?”

“I don’t think so, but something’s going down in Trollmarket. Can you or Mary join us down there?”

“...Who’s ‘us’?”

“Me and Dr. Lake.”

“Hm.” Toby heard shuffling from Darci’s end. “Not bad enough to drag Eli out against parental orders?”

“Aaarrrgghh didn’t seem to think so.”

“Then it’s not a Mary emergency.”

“Is it a Darci emergency?”

“Yes, because you are incapable of looking out for your own safety.”

It was a fair accusation, given Darci _had_ rescued Toby and Eli from a will o’wisp...thing. But Toby felt obligated to protest a _little_. “Dr. Lake-“

“Is going to be handling whatever injuries you think they need Dr. Lake for. Can you meet me three blocks away from my house?”

They were apparently done discussing this, so Toby shrugged. “Sure.”

Dr. Lake answered her phone with a breathless, hopeful, “Toby?” It sort of made him want to cry, because as much as he missed Jim, worried about him, she must so much more.

“Hey, Dr. Lake. The trolls have got something going down and there’s some injured. Can you drive me and Darci down to help out?”

“Yeah, I’ve - I’ll be a few minutes, Toby.”

Hearing how tired Dr. Lake sounded made Toby feel lousy asking for her help, but he’d overheard Vendel talking to Blinky about her. Dr. Lake was better than Vendel and his apprentices at healing; she’d saved several lives at Fading Dawn Vendel wasn’t certain he could have. So if Aaarrrgghh thought they needed her, he couldn’t afford not to ask.

But Dr. Lake looked fine when he met her in her driveway; she had a bag - bulkier than the medical bag she normally carried, and gave Toby a tired smile. She was an adult, so maybe she understood it all better than Toby did.

"You ready to go?"

"Yeah, we're picking up Darci a few blocks from her house."

Dr. Lake frowned. "Toby, I don't think I should be helping her sneak around like this."

"Do _you_ want to be the one to explain trolls to Detective Scott?"

Dr. Lake sighed and clambered into the driver's side of her car. "Get in, Toby."

Despite Toby's worries, she did head toward Darci's house, slowing when she saw Darci leaning against a streetlight. Darci was in loose jeans, a long-sleeved plaid shirt, and swung a backpack loosely in her hands. She did not look particularly stealthy, though she rolled her eyes when Toby pointed this out.

"Yeah, you obviously don't know what a cop sees as 'suspicious'. Now, any idea what we're dealing with?"

"Nope."

"Fun times." Darci leaned against her seat, folding her arms. "I'll just sleep until we get there, okay?"

She did, in fact, seem to fall asleep within moments of her announcement; Toby kept sneaking looks back to see if she was actually sleeping or not, and if not, she was pretty good at pretending. It seemed a better use of time than trying to talk to Dr. Lake, who _did_ look tired (taking double shifts, Toby knew, until the hospital had sent her home for a week to rest), and was focusing on the road. He was still awkward around Darci, and vice versa, remnants of the suspicious distance that had built up between Jim and Claire, but she...seemed to care about Trollhunting, or at least about keeping Eli safe, which sometimes required throwing oneself into peril.

Which was a good start to getting to know people, Toby had found. Tackling someone out of the way of a rampaging monster tended to break the ice.

When Dr. Lake stopped her car at one of the few parking lots next to the canals, it was left to Toby to wake up Darci. He nudged her arm, carefully, because she did not study krav maga, but merely brutally hit people until they left her alone, and those sorts of reflexes could be dangerous.

She roused without incident, thankfully, though she grinned a little too widely when she saw Toby. "Ready to kick ass and take names?"

It didn't take Toby long to open the pathway to Trollmarket, and once he did-

They paused, staring in silent awe at the sight. Lights, gleaming like golden stars, hung in the air of the cave beyond the horngazel portal. It took a moment to realize they were drifting slowly, and a moment more to see-

"They're bugs!" Darci exclaimed.

"Fireflies?" Dr. Lake asked.

Toby held up one finger, went back to the car, and grabbed a newspaper page. Then, carefully, he approached the cave, newspaper rolled up tight. He poked one of the lights, and when nothing happened, poked it a little harder.

"I'm gonna need an explanation here, Domzalski. This is weird."

"First lesson of the supernatural world - _never_ assume it's a metaphor."

"I don't see why the trolls would be worried about a few bugs," Dr. Lake said, "Even if they _did_ set things on fire."

"Second rule of the supernatural world - you never know what's going on until you're in the thick of things." Toby took a deep breath and looked back at Dr. Lake. "If I die, tell Nana I saved a baby troll from a horrible fate, rather than walked into a cloud of weird bugs."

When he stepped into the cloud of bugs, Toby didn't catch fire, explode, or turn into a bug himself. What happened was...he was surrounded by a bajillion warm lights, so dense he couldn't see more than a foot away.

"I'm okay!" he called. "It's just...bright."

"Huh." He saw motion within the lights and Darci appeared next to him. "That is...accurate. You can come in, Dr. Lake!"

"I really shouldn't have let you go first," Dr. Lake muttered as she joined them. "Come on; let's see what's going on down below."

Wading through the bugs felt a little precarious; Toby had walked the path down to Trollmarket enough it was familiar, but all but blinded, it felt like that trust exercise where you let someone walk you around with your eyes closed, but none of them was the person who could see.

Ten incredibly tense but uneventful minutes later, however, they emerged into Trollmarket, which was…

Better, sort of.

The bugs were above eye level, but were still floating, still casting a warm yellow light over Trollmarket. The streets, though, were empty, doors and windows barricaded.

Darci shifted so she was pressed back-to-back with Toby "This is starting to creep me out."

"Yeah, right there with you," Toby replied. He glanced over at Dr. Lake, who was frowning at the mass of bugs. "Dr. Lake?"

She shook her head. "We should see Blinky. I can't figure out what's wrong with these bugs."

"It _does_ make it look weird down here," Darci offered. "Like we're out in the sun instead of underground."

"Ooh." And looking around, Toby realized that the light _was_ comforting, familiar, like that of the noonday sun.

Light that would _kill_ an exposed troll.

When they knocked at the library, the door opened a crack to admit an aerosol can-

Toby lurched back as the hand holding the can sprayed it all along the line of the door.

"Blinky? It's, um, us?"

"Oh, certainly. Just can't get any of these things inside. Come inside - quickly!"

Toby, Darci, and Dr. Lake hustled inside, at which point the door slammed behind them. It was dark inside, Blinky's eyes glowing bright.

"I do apologize for the lack of light, but it is imperative to identify any opening through which stoneflies enter." His silhouette waved at them as he headed back toward the library. Toby took the lead; Dr. Lake was next, moving slowly, and Darci taking up the rear.

"Stoneflies?" Darci asked.

"A particularly dangerous creature to trolls - they store sunlight throughout the day and shed it constantly at night. The name comes, as you might guess, from what a swarm of them might do to an unprepared troll."

"Where are you sunstained, Blinky?"

Blinky flinched at Dr. Lake's question. "Ah - it's not so bad, Aaarrrgghh is just worrying-"

"Sunstain _scar_ if left alone." Aaarrrgghh's eyes, glowing blue in the darkness, marked his form looming as the entrance to the library proper. "Blinky's arm stained from helping Vendel escape swarm."

"Heroics that are duly appreciated, though it would be preferable if Dr. Lake can apply her talent to repairing that damage."

"He should be fine." Dr. Lake strode forward, swinging her bag up onto a table. "Though if you had told us what the problem was _before_ we arrived, I could have brought a specialized kit." She opened the bag and turned to Blinky. "Get up there. And someone get me a light - not all of us can see in the dark."

Aaarrrgghh lit one of the lamps, giving them a clear view of the grey, stiff patches along Blinky's hand and forearm. Dr. Lake clicked her tongue and bent to work.

Toby glanced at Darci before stepping forward around to Blinky. "So, um...what happened?"

Blinky scowled at his arm as Dr. Lake worked on it, though his top two eyes twitched to Toby as he replied. "They started arriving just after dusk - we thought it was just a few at first, but they soon began pouring from the Gyre station and it became apparent this was not just a small problem."

"Do stoneflies normally swarm?" Darci asked.

"Rarely," Vendel replied. "But such events have been among the worst disasters in troll history. We cannot risk approaching them to drive them away, and without proper warning, some may risk starving if they linger too long."

"Hm," Darci mused. "You normally just wait them out?"

"What else can we do?"

"I don't know...yet. Come on, Domzalski."

Toby wanted to protest, to point out he knew this place better than Darci, but he didn't have any idea how to deal with the stoneflies, so he followed Darci back upstairs and, carefully, back outside, where the stoneflies hung in an ominous cloud. Darci glared up at them as they took a slow circuit of Trollmarket; Toby kept quiet, a little worried speaking up might distract her. But as they returned to the library, she gave him a quick glance.

"Any ideas?"

"Um." Toby looked up at the bugs. They weren't flying around like any other bug normally would be. Not eating, swarming…

"Vendel said stoneflies didn't swarm a lot," he said. "And these aren't really… _swarming_. Just sort of hanging there?"

"So your thought is - what's their angle?"

"Um." Toby looked back up at the bugs. "I don't think they've got an angle - thinking more that someone's controlling them."

"Hm." Darci tapped at her chin. "Slightly more plausible. Though I'd believe they had a hive mind if you told me." She frowned at the flies. "Why would you drop a bunch of flies on Trollmarket, though? To kill everybody?"

"They'd be flying around, trying to get in places, wouldn't they? Instead of floating around. They're just keeping everyone stuck inside."

Darci jerked up, staring up at the mass of flies. "It's _Die Hard_ ," she whispered.

"What?"

Darci gave Toby a short glance, brow wrinkled. "Please tell me you've seen _Die Hard_."

Toby shook his head.

"Well, not to spoil a twenty-year-old movie, but they use a hostage situation to cover for a robbery. So...where would someone want to rob something from around here?"

"I mean, there's vaults and junk - and Rot and Guts have a lot of stuff in their shop, but I think you're focusing on the wrong problem. Even if someone's breaking in somewhere, it doesn't help us get rid of the stoneflies."

"Vaults? No." Darci glared at the nearest building. "Not anywhere that was locked up. Somewhere exposed you'd normally expect to find people. Maybe something in a common area, or out in the open?"

"Darci-"

She grabbed Toby and swung him around to face her, eyes hard, focused. "Look, Daddy taught me to trust my instincts, and my instincts are screaming here. Someone wants everyone in Trollmarket hunkered up inside, and that means finding out _why_ means we can find _them_ \- and _that_ means we might get answers, or at least be able to beat some answers about how to get rid of the swarm out of them."

"Huh." If Jim were here, he'd be focusing on the stoneflies. _Eli_ would, too. Skipping right to whoever was causing the problem, though...that was good, too. "You really think we can beat the answers out of somebody?"

She shrugged. "Not really. I mean, the beating and answers tend to happen around the same time, but you don't get _answers_ from people that way. You get answers because they're smug assholes who like to show off how smart they are. Now come on, where'd a smug asshole want to keep everyone in Trollmarket away from?"

And without really thinking about it, Toby's eyes lifted to the Heartstone. Darci let her gaze follow, and she grinned.

" _Excellent_ ," she breathed. "Come on."

She sprinted toward the Heartstone, forcing Toby to follow rather than lose her. And even with his practice, Toby could barely keep up. He arrived at the main hall beside the Heartstone moments after her. Hundreds of stoneflies circled the room, filling it with warm daylight. At the far end of the room was…

Well, they looked exactly like Jim, which could only mean-

" _Otto_?"

The person shaped like Jim raised their hands. "Hey...Toby. It's me. Jimbo!"

"You're not-" Toby looked at Darci, who was watching Otto with narrow eyes; he remembered she'd been putting up with Otto impersonating Claire for _months_. "Look, how about you tell us how to get rid of the stoneflies, and I try to convince Darci not to beat you up?"

Jim-shaped Otto's eyes widened as he raised a hand to his chest. "You sound very flippant about letting your girlfriend beat me up."

"Girl-" Toby glanced at Darci. "Good guess, but I've gotten further with _Eli_ than Darci."

"Wait - _what_? You said-"

"I'm trying to sound cool, Darci. And anyway, 'almost kissing' is still further than 'turned down an invitation to dance'. Probably."

" _Mein gott_ , is everything human teenagers say this inane?" Jim demanded. He smiled abruptly when he saw Toby and Darci staring at them. "Have I told you I have been studying German? A fascinating language from a rich and varied culture."

Toby closed his eyes. "Darci? Not certain I can handle watching you beat up my best friend, but I am not looking right now."

"Oh, _come on_!"

"No, do you know what?" Darci asked. "You've got two choices. You can tell me how to get rid of the stoneflies, and leave while Domzalski and I deal with them, or I can beat your ass while Toby figures it out himself."

"Are you honestly threatening a _Polymorph_?"

" _What_? You're a changeling? Toby! This isn't really Jim - it's a changeling _disguised_ as him!"

Toby snorted as he opened his eyes. The Jim-shaped changeling had an uncharacteristic scowl on their face, and his teeth were lengthened, sharp.

"You know, Jim's teeth aren't normally that pointy."

Otto let out a wordless scream and snapped out his hand. Fingers narrowed, sharpened into claws as his fingers lanced out. Darci sidestepped the piercing strike and produced a baton she slammed into his fingers. 

"Man," she said, "I wish I had something better to do than _break all of your fingers_."

"Fine!" Otto twisted his hand, dragging his fingers back, and, hand clutched against his chest, glared at Darci. "You'll let me go?"

"You've got til we're done getting rid of the stoneflies," Darci retorted. 

Otto shrugged, and held out his hand. "Very well. We have a deal."

"Good." Darci took his hand and _squeezed_ as she shook it, grinning widely as she did so. "Now, the stoneflies?"

Otto grinned. "Just do what I did." He pulled out a flashlight and flicked it on; stoneflies immediately began drifting toward it. "Ultraviolet. They'll follow it _anywhere_." He flipped the flashlight into a pocket somewhere on his person, and waved. "Now, I really must be going. Tell me how all this works out. _Auf wiedersehen_!"

"Man," Darci muttered as Otto bolted, "I _hate_ that guy."

"At least he's not pretending to be a teenage girl," Toby replied. "It's like, I can _see_ him thinking about whether it's okay to flirt with teenage boys in order to fit in."

Darci huffed, reached out and patted Toby's shoulder. "How about we just go see if Eli's still got those UV lamps somewhere, and complain about how creepy it is when he tries to bond with his girlfriends later?"

"Yeah, alright. Good job on getting him to cooperate. We usually just sort of dither about whether we should threaten him or not."

"Well, that's the Darci experience - precisely aimed violence with a smile."

"Ha. Keep this up, and we might just replace Jim with you." There was a hitch in his chest, at the follow-up he didn't dare say.

'If he ever comes back'.

\---

**The Present, in a Secret Base Hidden Under a Travel Agency**

Back at the Janus Order headquarters, Otto unpacked the bag he'd filled with trinkets from Vendel's office. Once he'd found what he needed, he'd decided to take the opportunity to root through the elder's belongings, and had found several treasures.

Including something he hadn't expected to see in his lifetime.

Otto drew the object, a star-shaped locket, out of the bag, and took a moment admiring it, the twin images of a human and troll set in each side. Early on, the changelings had begged Morgana for a way to expand their numbers, and from that plea had come the Dusk-Walker's Locket. 

A glorious tool to allow a human to take the form of a troll.

Until they'd realized a human could not be made to think like a troll, could not be won over to their ways just because of their shape. 

...Well, that and the other thing.

Because the point of the Dusk-Walker's Locket had been to allow a creature to walk between the worlds of human and troll as easily as breathing, and the locket only worked one way. Bound a human into the shape of a troll until their last breath.

It was why they'd cast it into Gatto's Keep - to keep humanity from a tool that would allow them to walk unnoticed among trolls.

And to keep the unwary changeling from losing their human forms. Unlike other jewelry, which required one to wear them to benefit from their magic, merely _opening_ the locket could trigger the - well, it probably qualified as a curse.

He pitied the poor creature who'd opened this before it got into Vendel's possession; it was a hard life, to be dragged into another world with no preparation.


	4. The Krubera's Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaarrrgghh offers the people and trolls of Arcadia a way to bring Jim and Claire back. Claire and Jim near their goal.

**A Long Time Ago, in a Galaxy Far, Far Away**

The Cult of the Sleeping God was a seductive faith, Laira knew. Across the universe, children grew up with stories of the Golden Age, when all the ills of the world had been locked in a great prison. When people could live for centuries untouched by the ravages of time. 

There was something of those stories in the Cult of the Sleeping God, the belief that Death could be conquered. That even if death appeared to come to them, that through their god's blessing, they might slumber until such time as they may rise again.

Some days she wished she could actually _ask_ a cultist about their beliefs, to understand better what drew someone to it. Tragedy? Illness?

But they had learned early on that the Sleeping God drew to him those whose fanaticism was itself persuasive - or perhaps, he bestowed such persuasiveness on them. Regardless, it was dangerous to allow them to speak.

As a result, she had been forced to review the texts of his scattered temples alone, unwilling to pollute any other creature's mind with the poison contained within them.

She was only just beginning to realize one of the oddities of the faith.

Namely, that beyond one phrase, one precept, there was little in the way of dogma. Who, or what, the Sleeping God was, from what path or means he had become undying. Either there was no true dogma, only the certainty that through blood may they become immortal, or the knowledge was passed through revelation and spoken word alone.

But there were hints, elusive mentions of his origins.

And here, in the archives of their temple on Verae, something more.

Something worrying.

There were almost no mentions in myth or legend of the Sleeping God, not until the cult's appearance mere centuries before.

But here was a fragment of a fairy tale, of the dark warrior set to guard the prison of the universe's evils. With Fearlings and thieves of dreams had been imprisoned every ill of the world. And among them, one called ‘the slumbering fiend’.

Of course, the Great Prison, Fearlings, and Dream Pirates were just children’s stories.

But if among them were the origins of the Sleeping God, perhaps there was more to them than met the eye.

\---

**The Present, in a Galaxy Much Closer**

It had taken Aaarrrgghh little time after formally accepting a place in Blinky’s home to understand that a relationship was born of compromise.

Well, those that lasted. 

So Blinky had learned to rein in the piles of books that often threatened to replace the furniture in his library, and Aaarrrgghh to confine his exercises and occasional play-fights with Draal outside.

So it was unsurprising that changing the nature of their relationship had come with new adjustments. One was sleeping arrangements; Aaarrrgghh hadn't wanted to evict Blinky from his bed, until it became clear that there were few beds that could accommodate both of them, and Blinky's was not it.

So, as neither of them were willing, now that there was a possibility otherwise, to sleep alone, Aaarrrgghh's basement room (did it count as a basement if the whole building was already underground?) was now both of theirs. And while sleeping with the weight of his beloved against his chest was welcome, it took some getting used to.

Among other things, when waking from a Deep Vision, jolting upward had a tendency to dislodge whoever might be sleeping on top of him.

"Oof!" Blinky tumbled to the ground, hitting it with a thud. When he looked up, his eyes were hooded, weary. "Aaarrrgghh? Is anything wrong?"

"Get everybody," Aaarrrgghh replied. His mind was sparking with - not images, not knowledge. His time on the surface, exposed to even reflected daylight, had blinded his inner eye, clouded it so the future, though _certain_ , was not always clear. Not like Usurna, who was said to know how the world would end.

"I am afraid I will need some clarification. Is that Vendel and Angor-"

" _Everyone_ ," Aaarrrgghh repeated, unable to vocalize what they needed, who he'd seen gathered together. "Human. Troll."

And that spurred Blinky into motion; Blinky could be prodded to act on official Trollmarket business, but he would fight for the opportunity to join with the humans on that sort of quest. It was cute, in the same way Mulder's fascination with trolls had made it impossible for the other trolls to treat him with the suspicion they might have any other human. So despite it being...three in the afternoon, when any reasonable troll should be asleep, Blinky (who was _not_ a reasonable troll) was within minutes on the phone with Mulder, and then Mulder's _mother_ , rather convincingly lying that there was no danger whatsoever to her allowing her son to come to Trollmarket.

...It was humbling to realize how deeply Blinky trusted him, to call such a convocation with no more than Aaarrrgghh's insistence it was necessary.

But it _did_ mean Aaarrrgghh should be meditating on what to tell everybody (and Blinky seemed to have decided it meant all the humans, Kellor, Vendel, and, if he could be reached, Stricklander) instead of watching Blinky as he paced, tried to organize the library, and otherwise working himself into a frenzy over whatever emergency he imagined Aaarrrgghh required his assistance with.

Which, given what they _needed_ to do, was probably an appropriate response.

Aaarrrgghh spent the several hours it took to convene five humans, three trolls, and two changelings (sort of) in Trollmarket, trying to gather enough information about the indistinct visions that had woken him that when the humans arrived, he had something _helpful_ to share with them.

And in the end, he _did_ have something useful to say. They'd managed to wrangle together Toby and Eli, Claire's friends Mary and Darci, Doctor Lake, Draal, Vendel, Kellor, and Stricklander, and when Blinky looked to Aaarrrgghh worriedly about how Angor Rot had not made an appearance, he'd just given Blinky a smile and a brief squeeze. The people they'd gathered together felt _right_ , and Aaarrrgghh might not be good at _visions_ , but he'd long ago learned what vision he possessed came through as instinct more often than actual...vision.

So when Blinky completed his thorough analysis of what little he knew (nothing), and everyone looked up at Aaarrrgghh, he was at least a little ready.

"Called you here because had a - vision. Claire and Jim in Darklands."

"I understand you are concerned about your friends' safety, but I do not see how this concerns me," Vendel said. "I have other work to do-"

"Trollhunter in Darklands. Claire in Darklands - changeling replace her. Changelings have Killahead Bridge. Need them back _soon_."

"We can't get to the Darklands without the KIllahead Bridge and the Amulet of Daylight," Eli protested. "And like you said, the changelings have one and the other one's _in_ the Darklands."

"Not true. Claire used Shadowstaff to get to Darklands. _Shadow magic_ can get to Darklands."

"Follow up," Claire's friend Mary said, one hand raised. "Having watched Claire study magic for _months_ , I suspect none of us are practiced enough to teleport across two dimensions without losing ourselves in an alternate universe where Angor Rot's trying to kill all of us."

" _All of us_?" Draal demanded. "In what realm would Angor Rot be _my_ enemy?"

"I don't know - I was just spitballing here, not exploring the intricacies of bizarre alternate realities. The point still stands that I am one hundred percent certain if we tried to teleport ourselves into the Darklands, forty percent of us would die."

"There's eleven of us," Blinky said, "which would require...four and four tenths of us to die."

"Yeah, sounds messy, doesn't it?" Mary said. " _Anyway_ , do you have any thoughts? Anything with a slightly lower mortality rate?"

And Aaarrrgghh took a deep breath, focused. Because he hadn't woken knowing if anyone died in the attempt, only that things had to happen to make sure Claire and Jim made it home. But...it might be wise not to ask human children - his _friends_ \- to die for the sake of this mission. Or at least to go forth aware of what they were doing.

And...there was a sense of foreboding hovering around Jim's return. Death? Perhaps. But worse than if they didn't help Jim and Claire come home?

"Dangerous, no matter what. But need Jim home. Need Claire home."

"Aaarrrgghh is right." Aaarrrgghh had expected Doctor Lake to speak up earlier, but she had clearly been waiting for her moment. "More than getting our friends, our family back, we're a _team_ , and as well as we've been pulling together, this 'defending the world from the Gumm Gumms' needs _all_ of us."

Stricklander nodded. "Indeed. We may be able to defeat Gunmar without the Trollhunter's help, but it is important to remember the changelings are in service to Morgana - who brought about the end of Camelot. Defeating _her_ without the assistance of a competent spellcaster is quite literally impossible."

The humans jolted up, almost as if they'd practiced doing so, shades of surprise, if not panic, on their faces.

"Wait, she's _alive_?" Toby demanded.

Stricklander glanced at Toby, face stern. "You have, I am certain, met her familiar."

"Yeah, but I thought Morgana was like - a _god_. A disembodied spirit who talks to a crow. I didn't think she was really, like-"

" _Real_ ," Mary interjected. "I mean, magic and shit, sure, but an immortal fairy sorceress who wants to blot out the sun? I mean, that's up there with-"

"Dragons!" Eli snapped. He spread his hands out, took a deep breath, and looked up at Aaarrrgghh. "But that's a problem for tomorrow, isn't it?"

Aaarrrgghh paused and nodded. It wasn't a good time to mention the shadow of wings he had seen spread across them, not until he understood what it meant (dragons weren't real, he knew, but drops of dragon blood could confer magic resistance, and General Gruthark, of course, was half dragon, making him all but immune to sorcery).

"Today's...for what we need to do to get Jim and Claire back."

"Yes. Not...sure of all of it. But know little things. Need dandelions. Quartz. Venom of phase spider. Blood of one who dwells in the Darklands. Something...else. A treasure with fearsome guardian."

"Okay, well, that's...doable."

"Nuh-uh," Darci said, shaking her head. "There's a catch. There has to be. There's something else, isn't there, Aaarrrgghh?"

Aaarrrgghh nodded. "Have one chance. Next new moon."

"New-" Mary tapped at her phone. "That's less than a week away!"

"Then we better get cracking," Dr. Lake said.

\---

**The Present, in a Dimension Further Away Than One Would Hope**

The River Van was perhaps the most unpleasant body of water Claire had ever seen in her life. It didn't quite ooze, but had a syrupy consistency and stank of rotten meat. She kept seeing hints of motion within the water, things she hoped were merely fish, but wasn't brave enough to investigate.

She glanced to the back of the boat where Dictatious slept. The troll, who was apparently Blinky's _brother_ , had a tight grip on the Shadowstaff. He seemed to believe that if he didn't keep a close eye on it, Claire would hare off back to Earth without him once they found Enrique.

Which was a fair assessment; she wasn't eager to bring a Gumm-Gumm back with them out of the Shadowlands.

"I don't want to come off as complaining," Jim said from the front of the boat, "But there are _several_ oars, and we are going upstream."

"And yet here we are." Claire _did_ grab an oar, though, because she'd mostly been distracted, rather than actively trying to shirk. Plus...the sooner they got to the source of the River Van, the sooner they would find Enrique, and every little bit helped. They paddled like that, quiet, for a few minutes before Claire glanced back at Dictatious to confirm he was still sleeping.

"Jim. We aren't really going to take Dictatious back with us, are we?"

"Of course we are! We agreed to. And...he's Blinky's _brother_. They all thought he was _dead_."

"But...he's a _Gumm Gumm_."

Jim shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. He got trapped here by mistake, Claire, and Gunmar's the only guy in charge. I can't blame him for doing what he needed to do to survive."

"Well, maybe if he were a little more helpful," Claire said, shooting Dictatious a narrow glare. "Like, how do we find Enrique when we get to the Nursery? How do we get past the goblins? How do we kill Gunmar?"

"Oh, that is quite impossible."

Claire yelped and jumped, nearly falling out of the boat; only Jim's quick grab at the back of her shirt keeping her on balance. Dictatious gave her a sharp little grin when she looked back at him.

"I quite understand your reluctance to trust me, Miss...Nuñez. But Gunmar is a charismatic leader, even _without_ the magic of the Decimaar Blade." He gave Claire a long, assessing stare; if he weren't an entirely other species, she might have worried he was checking her out, and even then, it was still weird. "I must commend you, though, on your mental strength, Miss Nuñez. Only a _truly_ unbreakable will could resist the call of Decimaar. Only the Lady Morgana could have done what you did."

"Wait." Claire's stomach did a little skip. "Morgana? I know that bird said he was Morgana's familiar, but I thought that was a - she's, like, _real_?"

"Oh, yes." Dictatious gave a distant little smile. "I met her and her son once."

Jim bolted up, nearly dropping his _oar_ , which would have really screwed them. "You _met_ her? Was she a raving lunatic who wanted to put out the sun back then?"

Dictatious was still smiling, but he shook his head. "Though she is of the Unseelie Court, Lady Morgana was...a delicate creature. Subtle. And she was great friends with Queen Guenevere."

"But she _destroyed_ Camelot!" Jim protested.

"Yes," Dictatious replied. He gave Jim a wide, sharp-toothed grin. "It is _terrible_ when friends have a falling out." The grin faded a little. "Morgana and Merlin had a famous rivalry, and when it came to choose, Arthur sided with Merlin."

" _King_ Arthur?"

"Who else?"

"So what I'm getting from this story is that when Morgana has a beef with you, she's going all out with it," Claire concluded.

Dictatious shrugged. "I don't know how she truly feels about it, but the Night Eternal is how she won the allegiance of the Gumm Gumms. In the Battle of Camlann, she blotted out the sun so her Gumm Gumm army could rout the human forces."

"Blotted out the-" Claire huffed. "You know there's a thing called a solar eclipse-"

"Ha!" Dictatious barked. "Trolls are creatures of the night; we have long known of the movements of the stars. No, it was no natural eclipse. The Lady Morgana asked the Moon to hide the sun; the Fair Folk may bargain with the spirits of the world - the Moon and the rivers and trees."

"She's a sorceress, though. Couldn't she, just…"

"No creature possesses the will to black out the sun with Shadow Magic. No, the only way to do something like _that_ by magic is Blood Magic. It would take _countless_ sacrifices made in one name to perform a feat like that - that, or the Philosopher's Stone."

Claire found her hands clenched into fists, stomach roiling uncomfortably, at the mention of Blood Magic. Sacrifices…

"You said something else, before," Jim said. "About killing Gunmar."

" _Quite_ impossible," Dictatious said. "When Grinhilda first gathered the Man-Eaters to her cause, Raughos the Far-Sighted spoke a prophecy.

"Of the Gumm Gumm Queen comes all manner of misery. Grendel the Insatiable. By no hand but that of a true hero may he meet _his_ demise. 

"Fin the Alchemist, first Acolyte of the Sleeping God. So long as her patron lives, no power may bring her end.

"And Gunmar the Undying. Neither by tooth or claw, nor weapon made; neither by man, nor troll; neither by nature's hand, nor witch's curse. By none of these shall Gunmar fall!"

Claire smirked at Dictatious. "Not by _man_?"

"Don't get your hopes up - the original Trollspeak used a gender-neutral term. And quite a few other complex terms that are _comprehensive_ in their description of what cannot kill Gunmar. Perhaps once we have returned to Earth, we will have an opportunity to discuss it in detail."

It sounded too good to be true, this Gumm Gumm wanting to help them to escape from the Darklands, to share with them Gunmar's secrets, all for a way out. If he _was_ related to Blinky, though, maybe he was sincere. The Darklands _did_ suck, so Claire could understand doing _anything_ to get out.

The river was growing wider, requiring more focus to row. Faster, too, so they didn't have much time to talk. Another half hour of work like that, and Dictatious let out a delighted cry.

"The old books _were_ right! The Nursery!"

"Wait, what?" Claire spun on him, scowling. "Do you mean you didn't know for sure it was here?"

"The only creatures allowed in the Nursery are goblins," Dictatious replied. "But you're missing out on quite a sight, Miss Nuñez."

"What?" She turned back to the front of the boat. And as it turned a bend in the river, she saw it. The river fell from a great rocky summit, beyond which was a canyon; narrow spires held dozens of bassinets hanging from every protrusion. There were...thousands, lights gleaming within the darkness like stars. If it weren't for the fact that every light was a kidnapped child, it would be beautiful.

"Um…"

"Oh, don't worry, Jim, _you_ don't have to hunt Enrique down yourself."

"That's not what I'm worried about," Jim said. "I just remembered where I've heard about the River Van - what's at the source of it."

"Oh. Yes. I presumed this part of our journey would be _your_ responsibility, Trollhunter."

The air was filled with a deep growl that rattled Claire's bones; she looked away from the Nursery to the summit from which the River Van flowed. And there sat a massive black wolf, larger than Gruthark, slavering jaws spilling saliva down into a flow that became the River Van as it tumbled from the rocks.

"That's…"

" _Fenrir_ ," Jim whispered.


	5. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything it takes to get them all home.

**Sometime After the Fall of the Golden Age, in an Infinitely Deep Pit**

There was a time, called the Golden Age by many people of the present era, when a place like this wouldn't exist. The Golden Age hadn't been perfect. People still _lacked_ , still looked to the stars and wished for things to be otherwise.

But the Golden Age had been born in the decision to destroy all of the ills of the universe, and that instinct guided a thousand years of prosperity. Not 'progress', or 'peace', because those were words used to justify those who suffered in the name of what was accomplished - those who struggled against the change you wanted to make, or who wished to change the world you'd already achieved.

Instead, the universe was steeped in the philosophy that it was every creature's duty to lift up those who had fallen.

Misery was like water. It trickled downward, accumulated, pooled, and where it was allowed to stand stagnant, birthed unimaginable horrors. In the Golden Age, there wasn't enough misery for a place like this to exist. And even if such a place _did_ exist, anyone who became aware of it would seek to cleanse it of the darkness pooling within it.

What darkness could not be cleansed had been cast into the Great Prison.

...A decision which, in retrospect, had turned out to be a mistake.

Because where misery gathered, a place like this was created. It did not matter if it was the collected misery of an entire planet pooling in a chasm beneath the earth, or the collected misery if an entire universe banished to a construct of adamantine and silver.

And what a place like this did to a - anybody, whether they were a person or not, was not _good_.

Legend blamed Kozmotis Pitchiner for the downfall of the Golden Age. But long observation had made it clear that _nobody_ had the mental fortitude to withstand the oppression of that sort of negative emotion without giving into the hallucinations, intrusive thoughts, and eventual slide into murderous evil that had culminated in the birth of Pitch Black.

So the Golden Age had ended, the ills of the universe had multiplied, and when the people of this world had found the rift in which this world's misery pooled, stagnated, _festered_ , instead of trying to cleanse it, had called it the Deep and cast into it those who were hopeless and miserable, feeding them to this wound upon the world, tightening the chains that bound the one trapped within it.

He had held on for eons, but his strength was fading.

Soon, he would be lost, and this world would follow.

\---

**The Present, in a Galaxy Much Closer**

Eli knocked on Mr. Strickler's door, feeling a little put out. He had not been allowed out on the venom collection adventure, although given the fact Darci had sprained her ankle and Toby was nursing a spider bite that left him phasing through solid matter at odd intervals, that might have been a good call on his mother's part.

Anyway, everyone had split after that particular hunt, and it was decided as the least injured or cursed among them, Eli should deliver the venom to Trollmarket, Mr. Strickler still being something of an unwelcome sight there.

So here he was, badass assistant Trollhunter, performing unpaid delivery work.

The door swung open, and Mr. Strickler gave Eli a tight smile. "Elijah. Do come in."

“So, um, is everyone else alright?”

“Miss Scott will make a full recovery, and Vendel has provided a remedy, so Mr. Domzalski will shortly regain his normal solidity. Everyone else escaped unscathed.”

“Good. Good.” Eli took a deep breath, because he’d been working up the courage to talk about this for weeks. “Can I talk to you, Mr. Strickler? About something important?”

“Certainly, Elijah.” Mr. Strickler paused just inside his living room and gestured at a short grey sofa. Eli sat, and Mr. Strickler took a seat in a worn armchair (he could have owned this chair for over a century, for all Eli knew - an odd thought about someone he’d always thought was, like, forty).

“Now what can I help you with?”

“I wanted to ask some questions. About phylacteries.”

“Ah.” Mr. Strickler’s expression darkened. “I’m not certain-“

“Every source I’ve seen has been vague, but they’ve got souls in them, don’t they? _Human_ souls.”

Mr. Strickler steepled his fingers, quiet. After a few minutes, he nodded. “Strictly speaking, a phylactery is a type of grail - a vessel for collecting spiritual energy. You might be familiar with one such item - the Holy Grail, which contains a fragment of Christ’s essence.”

Eli nodded, but filed away Mr. Strickler’s matter-of-fact mention of the Holy Grail - another mythical thing he had to add to his list of stuff that was real. The only thing he hadn’t been able to prove yet was aliens.

“A grail can hold any sort of energy, but until Merlin, it was considered the vilest magic to hold a soul within one. But then he created the Amulet of Daylight, and the game changed. Binding a sorcerer’s soul to allow a layperson to channel arcane energy made wizards of warriors, and each faction developed their own justification for the practice. The Eclipse Knights take the souls of those who have proven a danger to trollkind; the Janus Order _any_ human sorcerer; and the Thule Society saw it as a means of preserving the power and wisdom of their fallen brethren.”

“What happens to the soul?”

Mr. Strickler sighed. “No one knows for certain, though it cannot be pleasant; I have heard those with empathic talents are put off by them, even before knowing what they are.” He shook his head. “This is a heavy topic - I would prefer to continue it with the aid of some tea. Would you like some?”

“Yes, please.” Eli’s mind raced as Mr. Strickler left. It was hard to feel sorry about the phylacteries they’d foraged from the Order of Dawn, but knowing how trolls and people used to get along, he wasn’t sure how to feel about the others.

And the other...troll legend said that Angor Rot had taken Morgana’s eye to make the Eclipse Gauntlet, and that before that, Merlin had taken her hand. Did that mean they had parts of her soul inside them? Did that mean she could influence the people wearing them? _Merlin_ , he was pretty certain, wouldn't have made the Amulet if that were the case, but Jim had spoken of the space within the Amulet, where the spirits of the more persistent Trollhunters lingered and spoke to him.

A noise opposite from the direction Mr. Strickler had gone drew Eli's attention. He had learned early on to respond to small sounds, not to get lost in thought when there might be danger around. And Mr. Strickler might be on their side...ish, but he'd yet to prove himself safe.

Eli stood and walked carefully toward the sound, which came again, this time longer, in a pattern that suggested it was speech. It was coming from behind a far door. He paused at the door, looking toward the kitchen. There was no motion in that direction, so he eased the door open. A set of stairs descended into the darkness of Mr. Strickler's basement; mindful of drawing attention, he didn't fumble for a light, but eased down the stairs. The voices grew clearer as he moved.

"-don't seem to care it's impossible," a deep voice growled.

"It isn't _impossible_." Eli paused. That voice sounded _familiar_. "Prophecies like Raughos' are puzzles. What is neither a tooth or claw nor weapon made? A simple rock might do it-"

"Not by nature's hand," the first replied, and Eli felt a jolt in his stomach. Fear, shock, because it was impossible, but…

He took another step down, and there was Miss Nomura, resting against a pile of boxes and in conversation with-

 _Bular_! Alive and-

Well, not _well_. He had two limbs made of dark metal inlaid with gold, but they both seemed mobile, animated by magic, Eli was sure. But Bular was _alive_ , and that meant _Eli_ wasn't getting out of here alive without a fight.

Bular's face twitched, and oh fuck, Eli'd been found out! He fumbled, grabbed at the sheath concealed at the bottom of his backpack, and threw a Creeper's Sun-coated knife at the Gumm Gumm.

The troll deflected the weapon with his prosthetic arm, but Eli was already scrambled up the stairs, trying to figure out if they were here to kill Mr. Strickler or if Mr. Strickler had been luring them into a false sense of security this entire time.

“Stricklander!” Bular bellowed, and it was clearly the latter. Having wasted his knife, Eli pulled out the baton he’d gotten from Darci and fixed in his mind the words of a spell he’d found in an old book in Blinky’s library.

Mr. Strickler appeared at the entrance to his kitchen as Eli crested the stairs, brow furrowed; his eyes widened at the sight of Eli.

“Elijah-“

“We _trusted_ you!” Eli screamed; he spat the words of the spell out and the baton gleamed and grew a fraction heavier, enough to bruise troll flesh, break troll bones.

“Mr. Pepperjack,” Mr. Strickler started, before being forced to dodge a wild swing from Eli. “If you’ll allow me a moment-“

“Do you need help, Stricklander?”

Eli shivered, stumbled. He couldn’t take on Mr. Strickler and Bular by himself. But Mr. Strickler shook his head.

“You are rather more destructive than I would like for someone fighting in my home. Elijah! Calm down, please!” He knocked into a small table while dodging a swipe from Eli, and caught the lamp on it before it could fall. “I am not your enemy, and neither is Bular.”

“Not - he tried to _kill_ us!”

“And you forced me to amputate his leg after you stabbed him. So if he is willing to move on, you may be, too.”

"That's not the same thing!" Eli wailed, waving at Bular, a little too worked up to explain further.

Mr. Strickler nodded his head. "No, it isn't. But Gunmar has made many enemies, and victory may require collaboration with those we might otherwise wish not to."

"But…" Eli glanced at Bular, who was hunched at the door to the basement, face hesitant, watchful, looking for all the world like Draal when he found himself an unwilling observer to awkward social situations.

 _That_ , more than anything, was what sold Eli on the whole 'Bular is a good guy' (or at least, temporarily on their side) theory. Draal wasn't _harmless_ , but he didn't hang around worrying about being awkward in front of people he wanted dead. Eli doubted Bular was much different.

"Elijah?"

Eli gave Mr. Strickler a curt nod. "Yeah. I can't promise everyone else will be on board."

"Which is why we have yet to suggest this alliance to Trollmarket or Jim."

"Wait." Eli glanced back at Bular, at the prosthetic limbs, at their detailed craftsmanship. He moved easily with the limbs, suggesting he'd had them for a while. "How long have you been working with him?"

"Ah." At _that_ , Mr. Strickler shifted, looking away from Eli. "I had always hoped Bular could be lured away from his most...extreme views. But I only approached him _after_ Killahead."

"You helped him _escape_."

"Yes. Wounded, weak. If he had not proven amenable to my offer, I would have finished the job. I promise you, Mr. Pepperjack, I am _incredibly sensitive_ to the risks of allying myself with Gunmar's kin-"

"Wait. Kin. Blood. Blood!"

"What?" Mr. Strickler was puzzled, but Bular actually edged away, presumably wary of how many poisoned blades Eli might have on his person.

"We need the blood of someone who dwells in the Darklands to…" Eli trailed off, unwilling to risk telling a potential enemy about their plan to rescue Jim and Claire from the Darklands; the last thing they needed was Gunmar learning about _any_ other way out of the Darklands.

Mr. Strickler glanced at Bular, eyes narrow. "A commendable leap of logic, Elijah, especially given the imprecise guidance we are working with."

"Stricklander?" Bular asked, hesitant.

"I think we may have a way for you to make inroads into the Trollhunters' alliance, if you are willing to make a little sacrifice."

\---

Mary rolled out of bed with a startled yelp. She _had_ been sleeping, but her mind had a tendency to chug along when she wasn't paying attention, liable to come to a conclusion at the most inconvenient moments.

Like this one.

Still, it wasn't the worst thing in the world, she considered, as she fumbled for her phone and called Darci. The realization was an important one.

 _Vital_.

Because they'd been running around gathering things Aaarrrgghh said they needed to get Jim and Claire back from the Darklands, but no idea what they were for.

But _Mary_ knew.

Most people assumed Mary wasn't paying attention when she was on her phone. But just because her eyes, fingers needed to be doing something when otherwise unoccupied, didn't mean her _ears_ stopped working. So even though she hadn't understood most of what Claire and Rico, and later Raum (the bastard) talked about when she'd been learning magic, important facts had stuck.

Shadow magic was the easiest way to travel - space worked weird in the Shadow Realm, so a hop of a few feet through there could carry you a thousand miles in the real world. But the focus necessary to pick a destination, to create a portal to where you needed to go, meant it was easy to get hopelessly lost.

So any serious practitioner of shadow magic who used it to teleport needed a way to ensure they could always find their way back home.

"Mry?"

"It's an _astral beacon_!" Mary hissed into the phone.

"What? What's a - did you take too much allergy medicine?"

"No, it's a - Aaarrrgghh's been having us get all this dumb stuff together, and I figured out what it's for. An astral beacon - a - bat signal so she can teleport home no matter how lost she is."

"Huh." There was a rustling as Darci presumably sat up in bed. "Are you sure?"

"Almost positive. Phase spiders, blood from people trapped in another universe - all the classic ingredients to an astral beacon. Claire didn't think we had the time or means to get all the shit together before she left-"

"Because she is a dumb-ass."

"Because she is a dumb-ass, yes," Mary agreed. "Anyway, I'm sure Blinky or Eli can get their hands on actual instructions, but there's a tiny problem."

Darci sighed. "There always is. What is it?"

"We need an item of great personal significance to act as the focus to the beacon."

"Personal significance?"

"Something really important to her. And when I think of Claire, something she'd care enough about to use as a beacon to lead her home, I think-"

"Suzie Snooze," Darci concluded.

"Yeah." They were quiet for a moment, contemplating what retrieving Suzie Snooze would entail. With Otto firmly entrenched in the Nuñez home, masquerading as Claire, they couldn't easily get into her room even for something as innocuous as a stuffed rabbit. Rico had confirmed that the other changeling kept a close eye on him, which, given how close he and Claire had gotten, Mary would hesitate to ask him to risk himself trying to steal the rabbit out from under Otto.

"We've got like two days until the deadline Aaarrrgghh gave us," Darci said. "So not a lot of time to make a plan."

"Who needs a plan?" Mary asked. "I say head over there tomorrow and get it off of him."

"Mary, he's _dangerous_ ," Darci protested.

And he was, Mary agreed, but he had weaknesses. He was _trying_ to keep his cover, which meant there were things he wouldn't do. He didn't like unnecessary violence; he wouldn't watch movies Claire would have dragged Mary to. And he appeared to believe that teenage girls weren't threats to him, which Mary looked forward to instructing him was dead wrong.

Darci, though, wanted to plan, which they didn't have time for. Darci would consult Eli, who would research, and talk to Blinky, and then it would be a whole _thing_ , which they did not have time for.

But she nodded and agreed with Darci, because nothing wasted time like arguing with Darci Scott.

The next morning though (around ten, because she was not an _animal_ ), Mary knocked on the Nuñez's door.

She gave Mr. Nuñez a bright smile when he answered the door. "Is Claire in?"

"Mary!" He grabbed her hand, shook it. "It is a delight to see you. Claire is in her room, though I don't think she expected company."

"Well, I'll pop in and check - otherwise, I'll be back out in a sec. Alright?"

"Oh, certainly. It's nice to see you, Mary - we haven't seen you and Darci around all summer. Is everything fine?"

' _It will be_ ,' Mary thought, but she kept up her smile. "Oh, yeah, we're all just busy with, like, researching colleges and stuff. Get a head start, you know?"

Of course acting like a responsible student, planning for her future, put Mr. Nuñuz at ease - he chattered a bit about what they expected from Claire (which would be pointless if Mary couldn't get ahold of that rabbit), about Mary's plans, but he didn't really hear the answers. Like most adults, sometimes he thought teenagers were there to listen to advice about their futures.

One thing was remaining, though. "Is R - Enrique around? I wanna say hi to the little guy."

"I'm afraid not - we've been sending him to a pre-preschool enrichment center."

"A shame." It wasn't; Mary _really_ didn't want Rico to get in the middle of what she was going to do. And then Mary was let loose to head upstairs, which she did, cautiously. Otto wouldn't lay indiscriminate traps in the house's public areas, but he might have keyed something to anyone who didn't belong there (could he _do_ that? Knowing how someone thought wasn't helpful if you didn't also know what they could do, Mary realized). She reached the second floor without incident, however, where she paused for a moment to regroup. What she needed was a way to keep Otto from looking too closely, wondering what she was up to.

Luckily, he had proven not to know very much about the lives of teenage girls, which made this easy.

"Ugh!" Mary growled as she slammed open the door to Claire's room. Otto jolted up from her desk, where he was bent over some weird magicky-looking thing ( _fuck_ , she was really going to need to study some of this shit just to stay on the ball). Mary dropped, spread-eagled, onto Claire's bed and let out a sigh. By giving _no indication_ of caring what he was up to, she _knew_ Otto would conclude she didn't notice the weird arcane symbols sketched over the metal gears he had spread out over Claire's desk. "Darci is the _worst_!"

"W - What's going on, Mary? You haven't been around all summer."

"I've been hanging out with _Darci_ , but she _knows_ I've been crushing on Eli Pepperjack, and has been hanging out with him, like, _all the time_!"

"Wow, what a bitch," Otto replied, and Mary grinned. Distraction, achieved!

"I know, right? You know, they've been spending all this time together 'planning how to kill Gunmar', like I don't know what they're really up to!"

She saw Otto pause, Claire's face taking an unfamiliar sinister grin, and Mary wanted to laugh. He was going to try to be _cunning_ at her.

Like he knew anything about the layers of manipulation and deception necessary to navigate half a dozen social media platforms without 'a', nobody on any platform knowing who she was on any other, and 'b', ever pissing off anyone enough to get cut out of _any_ circle.

"I mean, sure, especially since Gunmar's basically unkillable."

Mary bit her lip to hold back a grin. "Yeah, they keep saying they've figured out some super-secret thing, which is _such_ a crock - Darci just wants to tap that ass - which isn't even that good an ass!"

Otto winced, gritting his teeth. _Good_ \- she needed him distracted, off-balance. Uncomfortable. And nothing made fake Claire more uncomfortable than trying to engage her in frank discussions of teenage sexuality - Otto _desperately_ wanted to avoid implying anything unsavory.

"I don't know, maybe they actually _are_ onto something. Did Darci tell you anything about what they're talking about?"

"Fuu, I don't know - something about some super-secret superweapon." Mary sat up and glowered at Otto. "I've got better boobs than Darci, right?"

Otto paled almost comically as he bolted to his feet. "How about I get us some drinks and you can complain about Darci's fake research to your heart's content?"

"Fine," Mary sighed, falling back onto Claire's bed. She waited until the count of five, as Otto's footsteps faded, before she hopped up, giving the room a quick scan for Suzie Snooze. When she didn't see the rabbit, she ducked down to look under Claire's bed, which was where she was when the door opened.

Mary jerked up, turning, to see Otto leaning against the doorframe, Suzie Snooze held loosely in one hand. "Looking for something?" he asked.

Mary tried a weak smile. "I was wondering where she'd gotten to. You've always normally got Suzie Snooze right on the bed."

"Where grabby little changelings and fake friends can steal her?" Otto snorted, clearly trying to sound like he was dismissive and arrogant, but by virtue of the body he was wearing, sounded like he had a cold. "Do you think I haven't thought about how you might try to get your friends back out of the Darklands? What a little thief who stole the Pale Lady's greatest treasure might need to get home? No, I think I'm going to keep a close eye on my _most treasured possession_." He leaned in close, giving Mary a wide, sharp grin. "My master is closing in on your friends, Miss Wang. Soon, it won't matter if you have this rabbit or not - _both_ of them will be dead."

Mary stood up, hands fisted at her sides. It took everything she had not to punch that stupid changeling right in Claire's stupid face. He smirked, though, at the sight of her.

"I wish I could offer my sympathies, but your friends sealed their fate when they went into the Darklands for what? One lone child?"

One…

Mary let her hands relax, let her shoulders fall. "We thought - I thought-"

Otto laughed, nasty. "That's your problem - your whole _race's_ problem! You've been alive less than twenty years, and you think you know everything!"

Mary shook, decided it wouldn't be too much, and squeezed her eyes, as if fighting back tears. "You _asshole_ ," she hissed.

"Perhaps, but in a few months, it won't matter. Gunmar will be back, and with him - _Night Eternal_."

"I wouldn't bet on it," Mary retorted. "Even without Jim, without Claire, we'll beat you." She stalked to Otto, shoved past him (even as he shifted Suzie Snooze to keep her out of reach), and stormed downstairs. Kicking the door open might have been a bit much, so Mary just tugged it open forcefully, yanking it closed and then nearly tripping over a baby carriage. Councilwoman Nuñez tugged it back just enough that Mary didn't fall on top of Rico, but it was a close call. The changeling gave a curious burble, still at the age where keeping his cover was rarely more difficult than 'not talking'.

"Mary! How have you been? We haven't seen you around much this summer."

"Oh, just swamped, Councilwoman Nuñez. But I was just swinging by to talk to Claire. An old friend's coming back to town tomorrow night and we're throwing a party the next day." She glanced down at Rico and winked. "We'd love it if the Nuñez family made an appearance."

On the way home, she sent Darci a triumphant text and let herself relax. The next day, she was ready twenty minutes before she needed to leave to Trollmarket, bouncing on her heels as she kept her eye on the window. It was entirely possible Rico didn't know exactly what Mary was up to, but there was approximately a negative chance he wouldn't show up just to find out _what_ was going on.

And indeed, ten minutes before Mary needed to leave, a squat green shape dropped onto her windowsill and rapped at the window.

She pulled the window open to admit Rico, who tumbled in, giving her a wide, toothy smile.

"So, I appreciate the invite to the welcome back party," he said, "but last I heard we were still a couple magic googaws short of getting Claire out of the Darklands."

"One, actually," Mary replied. "You."

"Me?"

"Yeah. Turns out we need an astral beacon, and the missing piece was something Claire cares enough about to always want to come back to, and Otto made me realize that's not some stupid stuffed rabbit. It's the people she loves." Mary grabbed her purse and waved Rico after her. "So come on, or we're going to be late."

But Rico didn't respond, and when Mary looked at him, he was frozen in place, staring at her with wide eyes.

"What?"

"Come on," Mary repeated. "If we can't stick you in the middle of the astral beacon, we're never getting Claire back."

"But you can't-" Rico waved one hand vaguely. "I'm not - I'm not something Claire _wants_. I'm the stupid changeling who replaced her brother."

"Well, it's officially too late," Mary replied. "I told everyone else we're set. Now _come on_."

"You don't _understand_ ," Rico continued as they climbed down into the canals. "She's in the Darklands to get her _real_ brother back - she's not gonna need me afterward."

And looking down at the little changeling, hopping along in a hunched gait, Mary realized he wasn't just protesting for the look of it. He really believed that once she had Enrique back, Claire would be done with him.

If she'd had time, and were a completely different person, she would have hugged him, and explained exactly how wrong he was. But they had a deadline, and Mary was not in the place where she felt comfortable reassuring Rico that being adopted didn't mean his sister loved him any less.

"Yeah, well, if it turns out she doesn't love you and dies in the Darklands, I'll buy you a beer once Gunmar plunges the world into Eternal Night. Now _come on_ , we're on the clock."

And Rico responded, at least, even though Mary was certain he still believed Claire didn't see him as a good enough reason to come home.

Changelings were fucking _troopers_ , she mused, going on when it was hopeless. She wouldn't want to get between one who thought there was actually a chance.

\---

**The Present, in a Dimension Further Away Than One Would Hope**

"Go!" Jim snapped. "I'll hold him off!"

"But-"

Fenrir lunged at them, snapping jaws at empty air as Jim shoved Claire off the boat and dove off the other side. The water was viscous and foul-smelling, and knowing it was saliva, was even _grosser_ than he'd imagined. Dictatious yelped and leapt into the water as Fenrir landed on the boat, sending it rocking precariously.

Claire was already swimming for shore, so Jim raised Daylight high and waved it. "Hey! Ugly!"

The wolf snarled and stepped forward, freezing when the boat tilted, sending it sprawling into the river. Jim swam as quickly as he could for shore while the wolf, yelping and growling, paddled after him. Unwilling to risk looking for Claire or Dictatious, drawing attention to them, Jim darted out of the water and set himself in place, waiting for the immense wolf.

It paused in the water, and for a moment, it looked like Fenrir was sinking. And then it pounced, sending water scattering in a wide spray as it soared toward Jim. He rolled to the side rather than try to meet that overwhelming force with comparatively tiny frame; the earth still shook with the force of Fenrir's landing, sending Jim stumbling. But he'd trained enough with people larger than him, those who could knock him aside with a swipe of their hand, that he was moving again soon, rolling away as the wolf swatted where he'd been a moment before.

Jim hopped to his feet, catching sight of two figures leaping into open space. He didn't react, didn't scream, forced to trust they knew what they were doing, because anything that drew Fenrir's attention away from Jim might jeopardize the mission. He brought up Daylight just in time to deflect a heavy blow, blade barely scratching Fenrir's paw as the force of the pass still sent Jim to his knees.

He brought up the blade in a quick swing, cutting a deep slash in Fenrir's paw before it could pull it back. The responding roar was deafening, a wind that sent Jim off-balance, even if it didn't actually knock him off his feet. But Fenrir moved quickly, wound in its paw forgotten as it snapped its head forward, jaws wide. Jim was forced to dive again, arms tucked against his torso, to avoid losing a hand to the wolf's teeth, which were nearly as long as Jim's forearm.

The wolf, though, pressed forward; Jim stabbed up as it bit down, blade caught in its maw instead of his arm. Rather than press forward, Fenrir pulled back, wrenching Daylight from Jim's grasp. It tossed its head, sending the blade soaring up, caught it again in its jaws and bit down.

Daylight shattered into motes of light.

" _Fuck_!"

Jim reformed the blade in his grasp as he sprinted away from the wolf, aiming for the ridges rising up from the river's shore, where he was almost certain he'd have better footing than Fenrir. Indeed, as he sprinted up the loose stone, he heard the scrabbling of claws behind him, and a frustrated snarl. But then, again, a pause, a concentrated sound, and silence as a shadow passed over Jim. He fell back as the wolf soared overhead, trailed by something that glinted, reflecting the distant light of the Nursery's bassinets.

When Fenrir landed, the ground beneath it shook, rocks and shale sent falling toward Jim. He grit his teeth, pushed forward, dodging the falling debris for a chance to get close to the wolf. And there it was, mouth wide, lunging toward him.

Jim swung his elbow around, catching his arm in the crushing bite; in the moment before Fenrir could snap to bite through metal and flesh, Jim stabbed Daylight into Fenrir's cheek. It pulled back with a pained howl, a sound that Gunmar must have been able to hear as it echoed through the caverns of the Darklands. Jim jumped back, skidding a dozen feet down the slope as Fenrir snapped furiously at empty air, snarling with every breath. It crouched and pounced, but Jim had seen this enough now, and he fell back a foot or so, forcing the wolf to over-reach on the landing. From that position, Fenrir was unable to reach Jim with its bite, but his nose was just close enough that Jim could slice across it as the wolf tried to pull its head back.

It lunged forward faster than Jim expected, furious swipes and bites too fast to block them all. A bite at his shoulder just pierced his skin as the armor crumpled, and when its paw slammed into his stomach, the armor dented enough Jim was certain it was going to bruise...presuming he survived.

But he nicked the wolf's paw again, and drew a longer slash along its other foreleg, nothing life-threatening, he was certain, but wounds nonetheless.

Rather than continuing to try and savage Jim, though, the wolf paused, head cocked, one ear alert. Jim had only a moment to react, so he sprinted at Fenrir-

Who turned and bounded toward the great peak.

Something like a thread whipped past Jim, and without thinking, he grabbed at it.

He was yanked off his feet, bouncing painfully against the gravel and stone as the bounding wolf dragged him along. It took a quick few adjustments and a lucky roll for Jim to land on his feet and just be dragged along, until the next leap. And of course, even forgetting the legends about Fenrir, it would be stupid to set a wolf like this to guard a place without chaining him to it.

And then Fenrir, who, as Jim landed hard a dozen feet below the summit of the great cliff, crouched, baleful red eyes fixed on the Nursery, bunched up and leapt.

Jim screamed as he fell into the darkness after the great wolf, kept screaming as the wolf landed on one of the many pillars of stone rising from the depths. It swatted out at a rope or chain that snapped as its paw passed through it.

Jim slammed into the pillar beneath Fenrir then; the chain, which looked like it was made of silk, fell below him, unwinding as it did.

He didn't allow himself a moment to rest, to wonder if Claire was okay. He didn't have _time_ , as he scrambled up the chain (and how long _was_ it? He didn't see where it was anchored, and it didn't appear to hinder Fenrir's movements any). If he let himself wonder if his friends were alive, Fenrir might have a chance to _really_ kill them, or Jim. All he could do was face the fight in front of him - not their chances of getting home, of someday killing Gunmar, who couldn't be killed, _none of it_.

The wolf was silent, and Jim heard the chattering of goblins. Fenrir growled.

Jim almost didn't tighten his grip early enough, as Fenrir jumped again, yanking him up and away from the pillar as the wolf soared toward another distant pillar, surrounded by hanging bassinets - none of them disturbed by the massive form sailing above them. Perhaps they were used to the sight of their guardian jumping between pillars to hunt and devour intruders (and how had they ever believed the _goblins_ were what kept the changeling familiars safe?).

Jim hit the pillar harder, a sharp corner that scraped his cheek, left him bruised and shaky. But he forced himself up, along the chain that would lead him to the jaws of a slavering wolf, a monstrosity that would one day eat the sun.

And he reached the top of the pillar just as Fenrir crouched again, ready to leap. Jim tightened his hold just before he was yanked into the air again. This close to the wolf, it was almost more frightening, but Jim _had no time_ , tried to angle and twist so as he fell, it wasn't against stone, but-

Fenrir landed on the pillar, and Jim, heavy, upon its back. He saw a flash of dark, a vibrant streak of purple, among a mass of goblins, Claire fighting to get her brother back, and he was filled with new resolve. She had to be close - the goblins, the wolf, had to know this - and if he failed, _she_ failed.

Fenrir swung its head around, snapping at Jim, and as he tried to ward off the bite, Jim let go of the chain he'd intended to use as leverage. Fenrir bucked and spun, and all Jim could do was hold on with one hand and clash Daylight against snapping jaws.

As the wolf bucked sideways, Jim pushed, rolled the opposite way to land on Fenrir's far side. And as the wolf spun, jaws open, Jim, tucked close against it, raised up Daylight and stabbed.

The blade pierced Fenrir's eye, leaving a bloody gash as Fenrir fell back, throat open in a piercing howl.

But Jim had no time for mercy, no time to do anything but close the distance between them, drawing Daylight around as he jumped at Fenrir.

The wolf twisted its head and caught Jim in its jaws, armor dented and piercing in a dozen places as Fenrir bent its head down to toss Jim up and snap his spine in a single bite.

And while this was not exactly where Jim had hoped to be, it was _close enough_ , and he raised Daylight up and slammed it deep through Fenrir's other eye. This close, with no way for the wolf to pull away, the blade sank in to the hilt, and the wolf paused.

And, silent, sank to the ground, where it fell still.

It took a moment to realize, in the absence of howls and snarls, that there were still sounds in the darkness below. The jabbering of goblins. Dictatious screaming back in a broken version of the goblins' chattering.

The wailing of an infant. Claire speaking in a quiet, soothing hum.

And then a hand appeared over the edge of the pillar, grasping the surface shakily.

Jim hurried to it, grabbing Claire's hand and helping pull her up over the the edge onto solid ground. She was cradling a small bundle in her other arm, which made a babbling noise that Jim supposed must be Enrique (he hoped so - he _wasn't_ coming back if Claire had grabbed the wrong kid).

"Oh, no, don't bother with me, I can help myself," Dictatious grumbled as he followed, brushing himself off as he stood up, taking in the top of the pillar.

And froze. " _Lady Below_ , is he - did you _kill him_?"

"I don't know - I stabbed him through the eye, and the sword went pretty deep. Would that kill him?"

"I…" Dictatious took a cautious step toward Fenrir. hand out, before he bolted back behind Claire. "Probably, but this is unprecedented - _unheard of_!"

Dictatious' voice was going a little high, as if he were upset. "If you didn't want me to kill him, you should have mentioned it _before_ you dangled me in front of him," Jim snapped.

"Didn't want - it wouldn't _occur_ to me to warn you not to kill Fenrir - it would be like warning someone not to eat a mountain."

"Look, can we talk about this somewhere else? There are like a bajillion goblins chasing us-" A distant sound like a foghorn echoed through the Darklands, "And that cannot _possibly_ be a good sign."

"Good, yes! Everyone hold hands."

"Oh my god." Claire prodded Dictatious toward Jim with the Shadowstaff, rolling her eyes. "I can _do_ this without a big sharing circle. Just stay close." She spun around the Shadowstaff and set one end on the ground, closing her eyes. Something beneath their feet flickered, died. Claire scowled, eyes still closed, and tried again.

"Grab her _shoulder_ ," Dictatious snapped, "We can't afford to waste power trying to get out of here, and physical contact will reduce the amount we need. Come _on_ , girl!"

"I'm _trying_!" Claire screamed. "But it's _hard_ , getting my emotions in the right place, especially when someone is _shouting at me_!"

"It should be easy," Dictatious retorted, "if you're drawing on the staff."

"What?" Claire snapped her eyes open, looking to Dictatious.

"The _Skathe-Hrün_ ," Dictatious said, "contains a deep well of Shadow Magic stored within it. You can _draw on it_ for the power you need. Just open yourself up to the staff."

"I…" Claire looked uncertainly down at the staff, and Jim got that uncertainty. It didn't sound safe, opening yourself up to what was basically magically compressed shadows.

A dozen or so goblins picked that moment to climb over the top of column, though, which limited the time they had to debate the subject.

Jim called Daylight back to him. "Claire?" he asked. "Do you need me to give you a minute?"

Her uncertainty morphed in that second to something set, determined, and she shook her head. "Hang on." She shifted her hand, and shadows _poured_ from the staff, puddling around their feet. Her pupils seemed to widen, engulf her eyes until they were a uniform black.

"Claire, are you okay?"

"I'm...fine," she replied. Her voice seemed to echo - or was shadowed by a second voice. "It's just...a lot to...take in."

"We don't have _time_ for you to adjust!" Dictatious snapped. "You need a destination!"

"A…" Claire's face shifted, the tilt of her eyebrows the only sign of her distress, as her eyes were featureless voids. "I came here...for Enrique - I don't…"

"Don't you want to go home?" Dictatious demanded. He kicked at a goblin that seemed willing to risk the shadows gathered around them.

"Of course...I do, I just can't...it's not... _real_ enough. Not from...two worlds away."

"Then what about _Rico_?" Jim shouted. "How do you think he's gonna feel when you don't come home?"

But Claire shook her head, tears streaming from her eyes. "It's not...I can't...I never thought we'd get...this far. I never imagined...going home, all...four of us together...I can't _imagine_ it."

Jim didn't know what he was going to say in response, except that it was swallowed up as something - someone - took control. "You don't have to imagine it," Arthur snapped in Jim's voice, "just _want it_. _You've only got one of your brothers back_!"

Claire's eyes widened, hand clenched on the staff, hold on Enrique tightened, and she smiled. " _There...you are_."

Going to the Darklands had been like falling through glass into ice water. Leaving was like - the air around them ripped as they fell, like rice paper, ragged and torn even as the edges tore at them. And they fell through into a blazing heat, dry, soaking through to the bones as they tumbled together onto the ground. Though the warmth felt like they were standing in full sunlight, it was dark, and it took a moment for Jim to register the feel of cool earth beneath him.

"Jimbo!" Something yanked Jim up out of the tangle of limbs and crushed against him, a fierce embrace that Jim hadn't been certain he'd ever feel again. A laugh bubbled out of him, and he reached around Toby as well as his arms, pinned against his side, could manage. There were tears in his eyes, but he didn't care enough to wipe them away, pretend this wasn't a moment he was allowed to.

"Jim." He looked up suddenly, and there she was - his mom, as teary-eyed as Jim felt. Toby stepped back, and Jim leapt at her, hugging her close as she gripped as tight as she could manage. "I was so _worried_ -"

“Rico!” Claire’s shout drew Jim’s attention away from his mom, where the little changeling, crouched in the center of a weird construction of glass and twigs, was dragged against Claire’s leg. “Look, _hermanito_ , it’s your big brother Rico. Say hi, Enrique.” Enrique cooed, and Jim had to jerk his head away rather than risk more tears. He looked up at his mom, the enormity of what he’d done to her washing over him - abandoned her, left her alone for _months_.

"I'm sorry, Mom, it was supposed to be for a few hours, but-"

"We can deal with that later, when you're - I'm so glad you're _back_.”

“Dictatious?” Blinky’s voice was quiet, but broke through the babble of the reunion because of the quaver to it, the hope, hesitant, disbelieving.

And Dictatious stood, brushing dirt away from him before looking at Blinky, giving him a wan smile.

“Surprise?”


	6. Ancient History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Questions and answers - and in the end, more questions.

**The Present, In a Galaxy Much Closer**

Krel turned in bed, but six months had done nothing to make the sensation of missing limbs any more comfortable. There were humans who’d actually lost limbs, rather than disguising themselves as a species with fewer than they were born with, who met and talked all over their Internet about it.

Their testimonials did not give him hope for the constant feeling that he should have _two more arms_ would go away anytime soon.

He spared an irritated thought to Laira for failing to establish proper contact with Earth, forcing them into hiding to avoid the many variations of killing him and Aja most human stories about aliens suggested were inevitable.

Aja, of course, was more optimistic, having spent their first two months on Earth watching the entirety of a recorded drama called Star Trek.

Krel had made fun of her, reflexively, for putting her faith in a story like that, but he couldn’t bring himself to honestly condemn her for it.

Not when he had, when given the order to grab only whatever he could carry when they’d fled Akiridia, taken his comic books.

Comics that weren’t about a future where people struggled every day for the benefit of all, but a past where they did the same.

All across the universe, they told stories of the Golden Age, where the evils of existence had been imprisoned so they could do no more harm. Those races that had survived the fall felt the lack, the loss of that world. All had a way to mourn the civilizations destroyed in the tumult following the release of the world’s ills.

(Krel had always felt most strongly about the loss of the Pooka - warriors, artisans, botanists - they were everything a real noble should be. The loss of his art, his scribbled attempts to honor their memory through their famed style of painting upon ovoid rocks, was another loss, though one more personal and immediate.)

But humans seemed to believe they’d been fucked (an amazingly versatile word they’d discovered early on in their time here) from the beginning, and so looked to the future for their paradise.

Age and time were hard to gauge properly when talking about the Golden Age, but Krel had come to suspect that humanity, that _Earth_ , had been born after the fall. It would explain why they told stories of fugitives from fallen empires, rather than the perfect world of the past.

(Those stories left Krel with a spark of - something, hope, perhaps. Because a remnant of the Golden Age, some sages or sorcerers or _something_ , might be able to help them.)

But worrying, too, were other tales common to Earth. Spread across their history, their myth and faith, was a theme of death as sleep. Of sleeping kings, of god-kings preserved so they may live forever, of those who drank blood so they might be raised from the dead.

Earth, it seemed, was not so distant from the rest of the universe to be beyond the reach of the Sleeping God.

Worse, given the age of these legends, his cults must have been here for a very long time, possibly...as long as humans had walked the earth.

Perhaps they were right to believe they’d been fucked right from the start.

And with that knowledge, Krel wished that no fugitive, no sage or anyone else, had fled the destruction of the Golden Age to set foot on Earth.

And at the back of his mind, he wondered why Laira had told them to come here if the worst happened, if, as he’d determined, Earth was a trap for the enemies of the Sleeping God.

He wouldn’t speak of, could barely bear to think, of the most likely explanation. Not until he had _proof_ that Laira had been turned, had betrayed them.

—-

Aaarrrgghh rolled over in bed enough to see the clock. Just before sunset - Blinky had spent another full night up in his library ( _Dictatious’_ library, Blinky had corrected earlier), talking to his brother.

Which, well, Aaarrrgghh understood. Some days he longed to see Bular again. Gunmar had pushed them into an early rivalry, eager to replace his fallen brother, and in the ensuing centuries since Aaarrrgghh’s desertion, they had of course become enemies, but not every fight as whelps had been overshadowed by Gunmar’s need to see which was stronger. Not every moment had been a bad one.

He had daydreams, little fantasies, of a world without Gumm Gumms. He wouldn’t have been raised as Bular’s brother - the raid that had stolen him from the Krubera and taken both his parents’ lives would not have happened without Gunmar’s need for an army. But his mother might have moved them to Trollmarket, and Aaarrrgghh might have grown up tussling with the great warrior Gunmar’s youngest son.

He tried not to indulge in that fantasy too often; thoughts of it ended up depressing him. For such a world would require the Lord of Flowers never disappearing, the troll race vibrant and thriving, would require, he’d concluded, Merlin and Morgana both long dead, their feud never erupting into magical war.

It was an impossible world, but a seductive one, and in it, he could understand Blinky’s desire to grasp this new world, in case it might disappear if he didn’t appreciate it enough.

But...Aaarrrgghh had grown up in Gunmar’s shadow, and though cunning, the Gumm Gumm king was not pragmatic or patient enough to take the time to break the will of one who would not immediately submit.

Although he _was_ suspicious enough to be wary of one who offered themselves to him only when they had no other choice.

And what that proved was...that Dictatious was a good liar.

Which ultimately raised the question of _who_ , exactly, Dictatious was lying to.

Unfortunately, that mystery would not be solved laying about in bed. So Aaarrrgghh rose and trundled upstairs, where Blinky was peppering his brother with questions from one of his books (Dictatious had written many of them, Aaarrrgghh recalled - whether or not Dictatious was his brother, Blinky would have leapt at the chance to discover what secrets Dictatious knew and had _not_ committed to paper).

"Blinky should go to sleep."

The two Galadrigals looked up from their work, and Blinky flushed at the sight of Aaarrrgghh. Dictatious _smirked_ at him.

"Your _**beloved**_ is right, _Blinkous_. _I've_ gotten used to sleepless days in the Darklands, but whelps need their sleep."

" _ **Belo**_ \- where have _you_ heard that word?"

Dictatious snorted. "I haven't written down every little thing I've ever learned. And he's right, anyway - you should go to sleep."

"You should _too_ ," Blinky protested.

"Oh, don't worry. I'll head up in a little while. I just want to talk with Aargha - Aaarrrgghh a bit. You don't mind, do you?" Dictatious' smile was wide, guileless, and in that, Aaarrrgghh could see Dictatious _was_ a good liar.

"Oh, yes, of course! Ah.." Blinky paused, reached out to Dictatious. "Be nice to him - I…" His cheeks flushed again.

"Oh, don't worry. I'll be nice to your _boyfriend_." Dictatious smiled, something sharp and, from Aaarrrgghh's experience around Gumm Gumms, threatening. But Blinky seemed to see it as a good sign, because he snapped his book closed and darted to Aaarrrgghh's side. He reached up to squeeze around Aaarrrgghh's waist; Aaarrrgghh twisted and reached down to return the embrace, the brief sense of rightness having Blinky by his side.

And then the moment passed, and Aaarrrgghh was alone with another purported ex-Gumm Gumm.

"So…" Dictatious said, "Aarghaumont the Pitiless, reduced to a house husband?"

"Not _reduced_ ," Aaarrrgghh growled. "Blinky the best part of my life." He paused, remembering Toby screaming at Queen Usurna to get his name right, and added, "And 'Aaarrrgghh', not 'Aarghaumont'."

"Aaarrrgghh, yes." Dictatious tapped his fingers absently against the table. "Before...you were the most ferocious of Gunmar's generals - the Pitiless, we called you."

"Realized Gunmar wrong."

Dictatious barked out a laugh. "And my foolish brother welcomed you in with open arms!"

Aaarrrgghh wanted to leap to Blinky's defense, to argue Blinky _wasn't_ foolish…

But he sort of was. He'd let Aaarrrgghh into his home when no one else would. He'd been the first to argue that Aaarrrgghh _had_ changed, had defended him against _Angor Rot_ when the Eclipse Knight had refused to believe Aaarrrgghh wasn't a threat.

And he'd done all this long before he had come to trust Aaarrrgghh, see him as a friend, loved him.

"Yes."

"And here you are, three, four hundred years later, living in my brother's basement. Sharing his bed."

"My bed - Blinky's bed too small."

Another bark of laughter from Dictatious. "Turning him out of his bed, then." Dictatious narrowed all six eyes at Aaarrrgghh, an expression Blinky rarely made even to his worst enemy. "A _pacifist_ , too. One wonders what he sees in you."

Aaarrrgghh shrugged. "Don't know. Blinky says he loves me. Don't know if he's wrong."

"And what do you see in my little brother? A paranoid overly-excitable nerd who happens to own the largest collection of lore in all of trolldom?"

And it occurred to Aaarrgghh that Dictatious, whom he suspected to be pretending defection for nefarious purposes, was _interrogating Aaarrrgghh about his intentions toward Dictatious' little brother_. Was that another layer of deception, a sign of sincerity, or simply the fact that, evil or not, Dictatious cared about his family?

Aaarrrgghh felt a headache coming on, a clear reminder of why he usually let others handle the complex thinking about people's motivations.

"Blinky _good_. Good to me. _Smart_. Anyway, need someone to keep an eye on him."

That earned another bark of a laugh from Dictatious. "Well, rest assured, if you _ever_ hurt him...there are things I learned in the Darklands that would haunt your dreams."

With that, Dictatious, offering Aaarrrgghh a sharp grin, pushed away from the table and headed upstairs, leaving Aaarrrgghh behind in the early evening silence.

He huffed, looking around the empty library, and decided to go find Toby. Toby would listen without forcing Aaarrrgghh to explore every possibility in depth, the way Eli would. And he might find a way to assuage Aaarrrgghh's fears.

Though he doubted it.

Evil lurked in their future, and he couldn't see the source of it.

Worse, he couldn't see a picture of a future where it all turned out okay.

\---

Jim had finally convinced his mom to go back to work - school was starting up again in a week, and he'd promised to stay close to home, barring a real emergency.

Which meant for the first time in days, he was home alone with only Archimedes; the owl, having pronounced Jim more or less a competent Trollhunter, was basically layabout, eating and perusing the Internet for whatever owl familiars were interested in. But that didn't mean he was useless.

Archimedes was one of the few people Jim knew who had met Merlin, Morgana, had _been there_ for the start of this whole thing. And that meant he had something no one else could give Jim:

 _Answers_.

So he was making meat pies, a recipe Archimedes had swooned over when Jim had tried it...god, three months ago. And Jim had missed this - the quiet focus of the kitchen, rather than debating whether to risk making a fire, or eat Nyarlagroth raw. Maybe Shannon was right, and he _should_ plan to become a chef.

Unfortunately, that wasn't a job that had forgiving hours, if Jim had to sneak out at night to fight evil.

Archimedes alit onto the counter with a flutter of wings, twisting his head around to examine Jim's work. "Meat pies? What occasion warrants _this_?"

Jim shrugged. "Felt like making it." He worked in silence for a few minutes before asking, "How've things been around here?"

"Well. Your mother spent some time quite beside herself. It...affected her work." Archimedes shifted anxiously from foot to foot. "I believe...she has been educating herself. About my world. The _supernatural_ world."

"Well, we dragged her out to be a combat medic on a species she never studied at medical school. It makes sense."

"James. Listen." Jim looked up at Archimedes' stern tone, finding the owl glowering at him. "You must carefully monitor what sort of knowledge your allies are delving into."

"What, even my mom? I can't tell _her_ what to do."

"Your mother _especially_!" Archimedes snapped, wings flaring to make him look twice his size. "She is a healer, and so I fear will be tempted by the power offered by Blood Magic."

At that, Jim, hand-mixing the filling, paused, gave Archimedes a careful look. "Blood Magic?"

"Magic drawn from sacrifice," Archimedes said darkly. "The most effectively healing magic is Blood Magic."

"I don't think my mom would kill someone for magic."

"Which is _worse_ ," Archimedes retorted, fluttering his wings. "I never said the sacrifice must be of _others_. It is common for healers who practice Blood Magic to burn themselves out for the sake of others. You must be careful she does not cause herself permanent harm. And the same applies for your friends; Miss Nuñez nearly got you all killed because she dabbled in something she did not fully understand. Who will be next? Mary? Elijah?"

It was a worryingly cogent point, the mention of Eli perhaps the most convincing part. The fact that Eli hadn't yet gotten himself killed or worse had likely only emboldened the other boy in his research and experimentation.

But ultimately not the reason Jim had lured Archimedes down here.

"Archimedes?"

"Yes, James?"

"Who...was the first Trollhunter?"

Archimedes gave a quiet, startled 'hoot'. "Ah. This is one of _those_ conversations."

"Look." Jim hit the faucet with his elbow to wash off his hands. "I'm fighting people who've been alive for _centuries_ , met someone who knew Morgana back before this whole Trollhunting thing started. And I'm starting to realize I don't know how this started, who Merlin _gave_ this damn thing to in the first place. And as much as looking for answers where I shouldn't be can get me killed, going into a situation where I don't have all the facts can, too."

"A fair point, James." Archimedes was quiet, and when Jim looked back at him, he was settled on the counter, looking like he was trying to push down into a puddle of owl. "The story is...difficult to tell. Morgana was a friend to Lady Guenevere, and Merlin to King Arthur."

"And they, like, didn't like each other. Why? I mean, it wasn't so bad yet that they were trying to kill each other over dinner, right?"

"No," Archimedes replied. "Merlin and Morgana...came from different worlds. She is fae royalty, and him-"

"Half-demon."

"Am I telling this story, or are you?" Archimedes demanded.

"Sorry." Jim began rolling out the dough.

"No, it's...not inaccurate to call Merlin half-demon. But he and Morgana...he was always very much...an engineer, I'd say, and she was an artist. And something about the other rubbed each the wrong way. They did that sort of...polite rudeness thing people do, when openly fighting would be in bad taste."

"Because they were friends with royalty."

"Yes. An argument about each others' friends could stray into treason, for example."

Jim couldn't help but chuckle at that - imagining some of the most powerful sorcerers in the world standing on other sides of a room making snide comments about each other. But that moment passed, remembering that the polite rivalry had evolved into a three-way war between two species.

"What happened?"

"Arthur sentenced Morgana to death for treason."

Jim looked up so quickly he nearly cut his index finger off. "Treason? You said she was Guenevere's friend! What did she do?"

"King Arthur found her guilty of killing his son, sacrificing him for the sake of arcane power, Blood Magic of the darkest type."

"She…" Jim's hands stilled as he took that in. Of course, Morgana, supporting the Gumm Gumms, who wanted her to bring about Eternal Night and destroy humanity, was evil. But there was something that felt worse about such personal, individual cruelty. "Why would she do that?"

"As a member of the Unseelie Court, Morgana adhered to morality we might find alien, even abhorrent. Regardless, once Arthur had declared himself her enemy, she saw no need for any kindness or mercy she might have once shown him...or his loved ones. Merlin came to King Arthur with a tool, the Amulet of Daylight, with which one might combat the monsters Morgana commanded."

"He gave it to _Arthur_?"

Archimedes gave a dismissive hoot. "No; the king knew his responsibility was greater than any one threat, than Merlin's desire to see Morgana destroyed. He commanded one of his knights to take up the mantle of Merlin's Trollhunter - Sir Gawain."

Jim felt a flood of relief that Arthur hadn't _lied_ , claiming not to be King Arthur. At the same time…

"A knight?"

"Well, a squire, really. None of Arthur's knights wanted to take up Daylight, but Gawain - he was about your age, maybe a little older. He was a friend to Arthur's son, eager to take vengeance on Morgana for her crimes."

And how long had he lasted, the first Trollhunter, barely trained, driven by a desire for revenge?

Not long.

It was probably why he had tried to hard to carry Jim through the first nine months of his tenure. To ensure he wasn't the youngest of the Trollhunters to die.


	7. The Enemy Within

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What sent two children fleeing across the universe to a backwater planet like Earth? How did Otto react to Claire's return? What happens when Jim finally gets his hands on some stones to empower the Amulet of Daylight?

**Not So Long Ago, In a Galaxy Far, Far Away**

“Get up!” Vex burst through Aja’s bedroom door much too early for _anyone_ , royal bodyguard or not, to be up. He tossed an emergency pack at Aja; it landed heavily on the bed next to her. “Grab anything you can’t do without, no more than you can carry!”

“What’s going on? It’s-“

“We’re evacuating you and Krel, so get _moving_.”

Vex wouldn’t let up until Aja started moving, so she clambered out of bed and gave her room a quick scan. She didn’t have time to dither, not if Vex were shouting, so she grabbed her palmtop, picture of her parents, and her jewelry box (not out of vanity, though the heirlooms were lovely; a desperate flight from the palace might someday require them funds they hadn’t taken with them).

“Vex, what’s _happening_?”

He grabbed Aja’s arm and pulled her after him as he pushed back into the corridor. Krel was there, huddling against the wall next to Aja’s door, a laser pistol clenched in two of his hands.

“I’ll explain on the way. Let’s _go_.”

“Where are we going?” Krel demanded. “The summer palace? Thassort?”

“One, keep your voice down, and two, we’re getting you off-planet.”

“Off - what about the blockade?”

Vex snorted. “It’s been decided trying to punch through with one small vessel is better than the alternative.”

Krel planted his feet, or tried to, skidding for five feet or so before Vex stopped and turned to him. Krel was - well, trying to look serious. Imperious, brows furrowed.

“Vex, _what is going on_?”

"There's a fleet _on the way_ from Gorgsa."

" _Gorgsa_?" Aja demanded. "They've been holding out nearly as long as _we_ have!" But there was a terrible irony to fighting the Cult of the Sleeping God. The longer you fought, the more of you that died, the more attractive the promise of eternal life became for those remaining…

But the Gorg had built a civilization around securing a _future_ for the next generation. To imagine them giving in to the Cult of the Sleeping God, which promised only a sustained life, a world with no room for another generation, was…

"What happened to the Nursery Guards?" Krel asked, which was a fair question. There was no warrior more deadly than those tasked by the Gorg to protect their children. So long as they had stood firm, the Cult of the Sleeping God wouldn't dare try taking Gorgsa itself.

"It doesn't really matter," Vex replied, tugging them back into motion. "Without a world to go home to, they're not rebuilding _anything_."

"And what about Akiridia?" Aja demanded. "There's billions of people out there who expect us to protect them-"

"Your _parents_ are protecting them. _I_ am taking _you_ somewhere safe." Vex paused at one of the emergency elevators and punched the call button, and turned back to glower at both of them while they waited. "Understood?"

There was little arguing with Vex when he was like this - acting under orders _and_ trying to keep them safe. So Aja nodded, though the thought of those who would be forced to suffer this invasion without an escape route made her stomach hurt.

But so, too, did the thought of facing the Cult of the Sleeping God herself.

"When we get to the hangar, you two head straight for a long jumper."

"We're not taking the royal clipper?"

"Of course we aren't," Aja retorted, punching Krel's arm. "They'd know it was us and shoot us down in a second."

"Good girl," Vex said. "Now get ready to move; I'll be getting to the control room-"

The elevator door slid open, revealing to the entrance of the hangar, where half a dozen people, led by Naior, Speaker of the Akiridian Senate, stood in the way. He wasn't smiling, and his skin was absent any sort of healthy glow.

"Your highnesses. Sir Vex."

"You should be getting to a shelter," Vex said. "I'm getting Krel and Aja out of here."

Naior shook his head, a gentle motion that nevertheless felt like a clench around Aja's chest. Of course the Cult of the Sleeping God wouldn't have made a move on Akiridia until they had someone in place to block any attempt at escape.

"Naior," Vex growled warningly, "I'll ask you to move. _Once_."

Naior tilted his head, and two of his gathered companions blurred and vanished. Vex shoved Aja to the side; she saw a bright flash as something cut through the air where her head had been a moment before. Something slammed into Vex; he grunted, a hand clenched around another cultist's neck, and threw them aside. 

"Run! I'll get you out of here!" He stuck an arm out and there was a sharp ringing as one of the cultists ran into him, knocked out by their own momentum. Vex cracked his neck and looked back at Naior. "Is that all you have?"

Aja grabbed Krel's hand and darted to the side as the other three of Naior's companions closed in on Vex. He snapped out with a baton, slamming into one of their skulls; another grabbed his arm, twisted. Vex dropped down, letting the twist carry him around and sweep another's leg. He pulled back and punched the one he'd attacked first, dug in his heels as the one holding onto him reached out for a punch, and then twisted as his captor punched, using the momentum to throw him to the floor.

Aja paused as they reached the interior of the hangar, where dozens of ships were parked. The blast doors were closed, sealed against all but the most determined assault, thus the need for the control room.

"Come on!" Krel shouted, darting toward a squat, matte grey ship. Armored, hard to see, Aja judged, as Krel began punching at the access panels.

There was a grunt and a crash toward the entrance; she looked back, seeing Naior engulfed in a blinding radiance, Vex picking himself up from a dented cargo container. He howled and launched himself at Naior - apparently a _priest_ of the Sleeping God - catching a baton on the man's arm, ducking as whatever power shielding Naior sent it hurtling away from them both. But Vex had expected that, dragging out a vibroblade-

And slamming it into the one whose skull he'd crushed, who seemed to suffer little for the punishment. So Vex grabbed them and threw them into the others, who for all their strength lacked the dexterity to keep their balance when hit by a person thrown at high velocity.

Krel shoved Aja up the boarding ramp of their ship, so she missed some of the next moment, but when they reached the bridge, Naior was nowhere to be seen, but a pile of shipping containers was suspiciously collapsed as Vex slapped the intercom and began shouting at whoever was in the control room.

He turned toward the ship, and then…

Something in the air changed.

The air grew...weightier. Tense. Aja felt a wash of nausea, a moment of disorientation.

And someone stepped into the hangar. They walked tall, on long feet, and stood taller even than Vex. Blood-red shapes, runes and curses, were dyed into the bone-white fur that covered their body, from the tips of their immense, slender ears, to their puff of a tail.

" _Impossible_ ," Krel whispered, shaking his head in small, jerky motions.

"Krel, come on, we've got to get this thing started up, and you know I do hyperspace calculations, not _emergency launches_!"

"But they're a _Pooka_!"

"Yeah, _and_? It's the Cult of the Sleeping God - I bet they've got a _lot_ of survivors of dead races kicking around! But if we don't get this ship off the ground, _we'll be one of them_!"

The threat seemed to spur Krel into motion, which was a relief, because Aja did not have time to discuss what it meant that among the Sleeping God's cultists was a Pooka, a race millions of years dead.

There was a more immediate concern, anyway, as the Pooka vanished, reappeared between Vex and the ship. They didn't move at the blinding speed Naior's companions had - they simply did not need to travel the space between two points.

They weren't a mere cultist, who gained unnatural strength or speed from their devotion, or even a priest, or evangelist, who wielded the will and voice of their god.

They were a sage, those who sought to embody in themselves the power and majesty of the Sleeping God himself.

Vex threw something - a dagger or dart, Aja didn't know, and the sage just swept up their hand, and it went wide. They brushed a finger along one of the bloody patterns on their fur, and when they snapped her hand out, a bolt of lightning arced from their palm toward Vex. Impossibly, he dodged the strike (not impossibly, not if he'd seen where the sage was going to aim), sprinting in while the sage drew on another of the sigils on their fur.

Their fur took on a silver sheen a moment before Vex's fist made impact, and when he pulled it back, it was bloodied as if he'd punched through glass. They were gone again, reappearing twenty feet away, their right hand already moving along another sigil.

Aja wrenched her gaze away to input the data they'd need to get away from Akiridia into the computer, checking the calculations as it spit out coordinates. She had to trust Vex to keep the sage occupied while they got the ship moving.

The hangar shook, and when Aja looked up, half of it had collapsed. The sage was standing in the center of an open circle twenty feet across, while Vex threw a plate of metal away from him. Behind him, Naior rose from the pile of containers that had provided a makeshift shelter from the falling debris.

And the blast doors began sliding open.

"We're good to go as soon as Vex's onboard!" Krel dropped into the copilot's chair next to Aja.

"I don't know...if that's going to happen."

Vex had taken cover behind a ship that had been crushed by the fallen ceiling, shooting short bursts from his rifle at Naior. The plasma kept bouncing away from him, allowing Naior to approach, albeit slowly.

The sage swiped a lazy stripe across one of their sigils, and when they raised their hand, they held a ball of shadow within it. They then cocked their arm and pitched the shadow at Vex. He stepped quickly to the side, and the orb, as it passed close to Naior, bounced away.

And then he was up in Naior's space, and the senator-cultist stiffened and fell back.

The sage, though, took the opportunity to teleport next to Vex, hand again full of shadow-

Vex grabbed the hand, and though black flames licked up his arm as he did so, forced the sage's hand back into their own eye.

The scream was high-pitched, piercing, as the sage lashed out with razor-edged claws, one hand pressed over their face. Vex could only barely deflect some of the blows as shadowy flames engulfed his one arm, rising closer to his body.

"Aja," Krel murmured, "we have to go."

"What? No!" Aja looked back at the fight, where the sage cut a slash _through_ Vex's armor.

"Aja…"

"Fine!" She punched the commands to retract the ramp, to begin powering up, but didn't look away. She couldn't. If Vex was going to die to get them off Akiridia…

She wouldn't look away.

\---

**A Little While Ago, in a Galaxy Much Closer**

Claire spent most of the walk home staring up at the stars, walking slowly to avoid tripping and dropping Enrique ( _Enrique_! Alive and well and outside of the Darklands!). Rico was plodding along just behind her, necessitating the occasional pause and glance back to make sure he was okay.

And he was...drooping, but fine; checking on him, the weight of Enrique in her arms, gave Claire a bounce in her step, lightened her heart. Because she was _home_ , and she and Jim had succeeded _without_ opening a path to the Darklands for any asshole who wanted to break through.

(Sure, maybe they'd brought back _one_ asshole, but he was under close watch by all of Trollmarket, so what damage could he do?)

And then they were home, and Claire realized she was going to have to _explain_ all this - at least if she wanted to keep them from throwing Rico out into the street.

She took a deep breath and pushed open their front door.

"Claire?" her father asked, pushing himself up from the couch. "What are you - I thought you were upstairs."

...Claire _knew_ she'd forgotten something.

"Papa...I need you to sit back down, and call me downstairs."

His brow furrowed, he glanced back up the stairs. "Claire, is this one of your 'memes'? Because I don't get it."

"Papa, _please_. I have something to talk to you about, but before I do, I need you to call me downstairs."

"Claire?" he shouted. "Can you come downstairs, please?"

"What is-" Claire's mother stepped out of the kitchen, a cup of tea in her hands. She glanced between Claire and her father, looking as confused as Claire's father did. "Claire, what's-"

"Ja, Papa, what-" Otto, Grand Commandant of the Janus Order, paused halfway down the stairs, transfixed by the sight of Claire, Enrique in her arms, and, hiding behind her legs, Rico.

" _Es brujeria_!" Claire shouted, at the same time Otto said, “Mein Gott! A doppelgänger!”

Claire’s mother looked from Otto to Claire, taking in, Claire bet, her ragged clothes, unwashed hair, the general disaster she looked like.

“Oh, fuck this,” Otto growled.

“Claire! Language!”

But Otto ignored Claire’s father, shape twisting as he doubled in height, skin giving way to chitinous plates, six-inch fangs, a dozen whiplike arms. Claire’s mother screamed, and in the moment, moving more gracefully than a creature of his size should have, Otto skittered down the stairs, turned, darting past the horrified councilwoman and out the back door.

It was quiet for a minute or so, during which Claire stepped inside and closed the door behind her. At the sound, her father looked up, eyes widening when he saw Enrique in her arms.

“Claire! What are you-“

“I’m calling the police,” Claire’s mom insisted, stepping over the remains of her dropped cup back to the kitchen.

“Don’t! Please.” Claire took a deep breath as they looked back at her. “There’s...a lot I haven’t been telling you this past year, and the first part is that I haven’t been home in over two months; that guy’s been pretending to be me the whole time. The other is…” She stepped forward and handed Enrique to her father; Enrique squealed in glee, and her father’s face twisted in confusion.

“What is this? Another imposter? It’s no good; he’s too small.”

“No, Papa. That’s Enrique. This is Rico; he’s been pretending to be Enrique for...nine months or so.”

Rico waved his hand at Claire’s parents. “Hey.”

Claire’s mother narrowed her eyes at Claire. “Where exactly have you _been_ , if not home? And _what_ you been up to?”

—-

**The Present**

Draal looked Jim and Toby over and gave a grunt - approving, Jim knew (or at least resigned).

“Now, I know you’re familiar with Phylactery gems, or have at least experienced their effects.”

Jim nodded; while neither Archimedes nor any of the other Trollhunters had told him how gems could grant the Amulet of Daylight new powers, during the Battle of Fading Dawn Angor Rot had snuck into the amulet a set of gems whose combined powers made Jim nearly unkillable as long as he wore it.

“Eli got a phylactery off one of those grunts and has a gem that like, lets him light fires with his fingers. Like this!” Toby snapped his fingers, but nothing happened. “If I had Eli’s gem thing, my finger would be on fire.”

“Anyway,” Draal grumbled, “in light of your continued defense of trollkind, Angor Rot has given me leave to allow you the use of some of the gems I have collected over the years.” He patted the large box he’d settled on the podium in the Heroes’ Forge. “I will warn you, some of these have powers known only through legend, and some we have no idea of at all.”

“Then why-“

“I bet you got some off the Janus Order or Order of Dawn, and just didn’t want them to get them back.”

Draal nodded approvingly at Toby. “Correct. But come, let’s see if you believe any of these will aid in your work, Trollhunter.”

There were dozens of gems in the box, some of them treasures discovered in the world, others remnants of trolls long dead, Eclipse Knights and other heroes who had bequeathed themselves to the protection of trollkind.

One that wrapped shadows around the user, to conceal them and soften their steps. Another that let the bearer use rudimentary Blood Magic, drawing others’ wounds into them. A cracked gem that was supposed to offer protection against mental influence, which had broken when an Eclipse Knight had used it to fight the Decimaar Blade.

And a strange stone with a faceted, mirrored surface.

“The Aspectus Stone,” Draal declared. “Maddrux the Mindful used it to ‘fight with the strength of one thousand’.”

It was hardly the most interesting stone, but it _did_ sound useful.

Jim grabbed it out of the box. “Given the number of times I’ve had to fight trolls more than twice as tall as me, I’ll take any strength I can get.”

He opened the Amulet of Daylight and placed the gleaming stone within. There was a click as the amulet closed. Jim raised it and called, "For the Glory of Merlin, Daylight is mine to command!" When he landed back on his feet, he stretched, trying to see if he felt any stronger. "I don't think it's working," he said to Draal.

Draal cracked his neck and grinned at Jim. "Come, try to knock me off my feet, Trollhunter, and we'll see if you are right."

Jim rolled his eyes, dropped Daylight, and charged as Draal set himself low to the ground. Jim bounced off of Draal to the same approximate effect as when he'd first started training with the Eclipse Knight, and fell on his ass. 

"Good try, Jimbo! Maybe next time actually do some damage!"

"I love you, Toby, but shut up." Jim backed up, took a moment to breathe, tried to dig deep for the power of the Aspectus Stone, and then charged again.

And fell on his ass again.

An hour later, he was _done_ with trying to get the Aspectus Stone to work. He left it in the Amulet of Daylight, resolving to ask Eli, who had first used a phylactery by accident, for advice.

On the way home, Toby circled Jim lazily, waving whenever he saw Jim looking. "You gotta relax, Jimbo," he offered. "Killing Fenrir makes you officially more badass than Odin, and you did that _without_ a phylactery."

Jim shrugged. Somehow, killing Fenrir didn't feel badass; Jim had been terrified, on the edge of dying half a dozen times, and had nearly lost an arm making the killing blow. Claire had crossed a bottomless pit, following vague magical senses to find her brother among thousands of identical bassinets, fighting off goblins, and had the energy afterward to teleport them across two dimensions and back home.

And on top of all that, she'd resisted the power of the Decimaar Blade, while Jim had been unable to last even a minute against Gruthark, the last of Gunmar's generals.

He needed better tools - the strength of a thousand, or even Eli's hand lighter. Because if he couldn't get stronger, Jim wasn't the right person for the job.

The thought made his stomach hurt, because a warrior of the Order of Dawn had told Jim long ago that there was a way out, making walking away, leaving the Amulet to someone else, a real possibility.

Jim went to his room and dropped on his bed the moment he got home, wanting nothing more than to…

Be better.

Give up.

Get out of here.

Jim woke not long after that, feeling light-headed, unsteady. He'd been planning to cook dinner, or do homework, or just get outside and run for a bit.

His phone rang, startling Jim out of his strange fugue state.

"Hi?"

"Hey, Jim, it's Claire."

"Hey." Jim sat down a little heavily. For all he'd had no one but Claire (and Arthur) for company for weeks, it felt weird talking to her. "What's up?"

"Soo, I told my parents."

"Told them-"

"I've been in another dimension for close to three months, trying to rescue their youngest child from the goblins that kidnapped him, and hey, trolls are real."

"What else?" Jim heard in the background. "Vampires? Dragons?"

"No, Papa, dragons aren't real! Anyway, they've been arguing all week, and Papa wants to invite everyone over for a barbeque - commiserate with the parents, make sure none of you are after my virtue, the whole thing."

"Your...virtue?"

"Yeah, go figure - I tell Papa I've been running around fighting evil trolls and he worries you had _designs_ ,"

Jim laughed. "Designs?"

"Yeah, _dads_." There was a pause, and Jim could almost hear Claire's horrified expression. "Oh god! Sorry."

"It's alright." Jim shrugged. "So...barbeque?"

"Yeah, tomorrow. I'm calling everyone individually. Do you think Archimedes would want to come?"

"I think once you start inviting magical creatures you're not related to, we'd have to invite the trolls, and your backyard is not ready for that."

"The _homeowners' association_ isn't ready for that. Alright, I'll see you around."

"Yeah," Jim replied.

He fell back onto his bed when Claire hung up, weary, worrying about getting cornered and interrogated by Mr. Nuñez about his intentions. He could just.

Run. Hide. Fight.

Jim threw himself off his bed with a growl and went downstairs to make himself something to eat.

Jim slouched into the bathroom to see if a long soak would calm him down.

Jim curled up on his bed and tried to sleep.

And Jim slid his bedroom window open, climbed out, and went out alone into the warm September night.


	8. Triple Threat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Aspectus Stone has split Jim into multiple people, requiring a scramble to get them all back together.
> 
> And the revelation of a new threat against the Trollhunter.

**Not so long ago, in a Galaxy Much Closer**

Laira dropped lightly from the balcony, landing on her feet (like a cat, apparently. She'd taken one of the little furry beasts into her home - he didn't seem to mind when she had to vanish for several days, though he was a bald-faced liar, insisting he hadn't been fed fifteen minutes after she'd done so).

"Freeze."

She sighed and raised her hands. "Do we really need to do this every time, Agent Domzalski? We both know you're not going to shoot me, and I'm not going to kill you, and this is basically play-acting for the benefit of your handlers. Hi, Amila!"

"Can you not? I keep getting written up for being too familiar with a person of interest-"

"Do _you_ find me interesting?"

"I - it's things like this that makes us pretty sure you're a badly trained foreign agent."

"Undocumented alien, you mean?" Laira retorted, grinning when she saw Sebastian's eyes narrow. He was pretty sure, but didn't want to say anything until he was certain, for fear of offending her, which was endearing.

But he shook away the moment of confusion. "What were you doing up there, Laira?"

"Important research."

"Trying to assess the capabilities of our space force?"

"Your-" Laira couldn't help it; she burst out laughing. "Your - _space force_?" She grabbed the side of the building for support as she kept laughing, because Sebastian was _adorable_.

"What are you laughing about? We got to the moon-"

"Oh yes, sorry," Laira said. "You spent like a billion dollars to fly to your nearest satellite. That's very impressive for a species who hasn't figured out _magic_ , much less zero-point energy."

The confused mix of emotions that crossed Sebastian's face would have been enough for Laira to use as a distraction and escape, but…

Sometimes it hit her how alone she was, here. Surrounded by strangers, enemies...and Sebastian. Who was neither.

"So you _are_ a-"

"You'll excuse me for not sharing the name of my home planet. You'd have to write it down, and it's a little dangerous right now."

"But not...knowing you're an alien?"

Laira shrugged, the gesture still feeling weird with only one set of muscles supporting the motion. "What are they going to do about it?"

"Look," Sebastian said, "can you just...tell me what you were doing up there? I hate going back to my bosses with literally nothing aside from what everyone at the office insists is flirting."

"...Is it?" The idea was appealing, although Laira wasn't certain if it was because Sebastian was the only person on the planet who had any idea who she was.

"Laira, please."

"I wanted to know what he saw."

"What - he was on the moon, Laira. We have pictures."

"But not _all_ the pictures," Laira replied. "When _I_ arrived, I saw something on the moon your government - _everyone's_ government - has been trying to keep quiet. And I needed to know if what I saw...was what I think I saw."

Sebastian was quiet a moment before he asked, "what was it?"

"Evidence that people came to Earth long before your people were born...and that they found something unfriendly here."

\---

**The Present, in a Galaxy Much Closer**

"Okay," Tiffany said. "Let's take stock."

Gawain was asleep, an understandable state of being, as he'd confided, once, that sleep was one of the things he missed the most about being alive. He could be safely left where he was.

Tiffany was awake, and, after a few minutes debating whether it was considered immodest, had dressed, albeit with her eyes closed. It was close to nine, which mean-

She had missed _Fajr_.

After a hurried prayer, and an apology to God for having gotten used to the timeless void where it was impossible to tell when it was dawn or midday, Tiffany refocused. _She_ was awake and dressed, and Gawain was accounted for.

...The problem was that Jim was nowhere to be found.

When they fixed this, she was going to have a long talk with Draal about the danger of letting children run around using magical artifacts with unknown properties.

...And whoever was responsible for troll archival knowledge, because 'strength of a thousand' was the most misleading possible way to describe what the Aspectus Stone did, namely allowing an individual to split into multiple copies of themselves.

It was lucky the Aspectus Stone appeared to be imbuing Jim's duplicates with the consciousness of the Trollhunters within the Amulet of Daylight, rather than dark reflections of his own personality, facets without depth, or any number of possible ways the Aspectus Stone could function.

They had three hours to find Jim and get him to the Nuñez's barbeque in order to avoid making a poor impression, and Tiffany had no idea where to look. She had a duplicate of the Amulet of Daylight, which proved to have...roughly the same powers as she remembered, but it did not contain the Void, or, more importantly, the shade of Arthur, the only spirit within the Amulet who might be able to figure out where Jim was on his own.

This left Tiffany with several distasteful options. The first was seeking help from Jim's allies, but she was loathe to expose their secrets to the trolls. 

_Especially_ now that 'the trolls' included _two_ purported deserters from Gunmar.

The second was asking _Archimedes_ for help, but given as he'd been no help whatsoever when Tiffany had set out to trap the Gumm Gumms in another dimension as a temporary fix to their troll problem, she wasn't keen on that, either.

Which meant…

Waking up Gawain.

Tiffany picked up Jim's desk chair and carefully poked the sleeping Gawain with it. He snorted, jerked up, and frowned thoughtfully when he saw Tiffany.

"What-"

"The Trollhunter picked up something called the Aspectus Stone, and it's thrown us out of the Amulet while _he's_ disappeared."

Gawain narrowed his eyes. "Tiffany?"

"Yes, I know you have been sleeping on and off for the past 1,500 years, but do try to keep up."

"It's not sleep-" Gawain started, but snapped his mouth closed at Tiffany's dismissive wave. "Okay. So...what's the plan?"

"You are going to help me find our real Trollhunter and see if we can get our souls back into the Void before we discover what other nasty side-effects this stupid stone has."

"What about-"

"I know it is tempting to suggest you could pretend to be the boy you happen to look like right now, but can you cook?"

"What does that-"

"Do you know his mother's name?"

"Barbara?"

Tiffany stumbled mid-sentence, and gave Gawain a long look. "Have you been awake this entire time?"

Gawain shook his head. "Sorry. She just looks like someone I know." He pointed behind Tiffany to where a picture of Barbara and Jim, the former in a graduate's robe and hat, were smiling at a camera. Tiffany took a deep breath and reminded herself that over a thousand years dead or not, Gawain was an intelligent man - he had presumably spent the last minute or two trying to figure out everything he could about his surroundings without asking.

"Regardless, I do not think you could reliably pass as Jim, and our time would best be spent trying to locate him. I woke you because two sets of eyes are better than one. So _you_ \- get dressed, while I try to find something to cover my hair."

Rather than risk running into Barbara, Tiffany directed them out the window (open, suggesting it had been Jim's method of egress) before trying to think. The canals was one option; he might have easily fled there to clear his head or something. The Domzalskis' another, though she did _not_ want to drag a non-Trollhunter into this unless absolutely necessary.

Unfortunately, a cursory review was necessary, and Tiffany would not be capable of passing herself off as Jim without compromising her modesty, and the situation was not yet _that_ dire.

"Okay," she said to Gawain, "Nothing fancy. Just knock on the door, ask if you had plans, and if he seems confused about you being out _here_ , Jim is inside somewhere and we can _probably_ get this resolved without any further shenanigans."

She crouched in the shadow of the Domzalskis' porch while Gawain knocked on the door, holding her breath because she had, in the moment of tension, forgotten that was a thing they needed to do.

The door opened. "Hey...you!"

Tiffany had, centuries ago, orchestrated a plot to cast the vast majority of the Gumm Gumm army into the Darklands. It had required an unmatched understanding of Shadow Magic, coordination with a trollish sage, and completion of a logistical challenge never since matched.

Tiffany had, today, attempted to momentarily convince someone that Gawain was Jim Lake Jr., and forgotten to tell him the names of the people he might have to talk to.

Clearly death had not improved her mental acuity.

"Jim! Oh, how lovely to see you. Are you here to see Toby?"

"Um, no, ma'am." Gawain gave Toby's Nana a wide smile. "I just thought I would stop by and...see if you needed anything."

Chivalry apparently got beat into you early when you grew up around Arthur Pendragon, Tiffany thought darkly as Toby's Nana cheered and grinned at Gawain.

"Oh, that would be perfect! I have a few things I need done before the Nuñez's barbeque later, and I would _love_ your help."

Nana dragged Gawain inside, the door swinging closed behind them.

Tiffany groaned. It looked like it was just her, now.

...She was beginning to wish she'd just given in and called Eli.

\---

"Hey, sis, get up!"

Claire groaned and waved vaguely in the direction of the voice intruding on her sleep. Unfortunately, Rico knew her reach and could easily sit outside of it when tormenting her. She cracked her eyes open and glared at Rico. He was in a currently-unripped black shirt and dark blue coveralls, having lost the argument over what constituted appropriate dress (but winning some sort of war, as every piece of clothing he wore become mysteriously 'distressed' within 24 hours of putting it on, leaving him looking like some sort of punk goblin most of the time).

"Claaaaaaiiiiire," Rico repeated, and something poked her leg. She growled and forced her eyes closed. She was _tired_ , and didn't want to go to some stupid party and watch her father try to determine which of the boys in attendance Claire wanted to kiss. She wanted…

A wracking cough interrupted her thoughts for a few moments. That was...slightly worrying, but the cough was new, making it unlikely she'd caught some horrifying magic flu in the Darklands. Rico, though, perched at the foot of Claire's bed, ears flat back against his head, rose a little, eyes narrow. "You okay?"

"I'm fine, just...tired. I guess all that time running around avoiding Gunmar's catching up to me." She rolled out of bed, because she was clearly not getting back to sleep, and fumbled for some clothes, pausing before she actually dressed to shoot Rico a glare. "Do you mind?"

"Oh! Right." Rico scrambled for the door, waving before he slipped through. "See you in a jiff, sis!"

He kept repeating that word when talking to Claire, called Enrique his baby brother (she’d yet to get a straight answer out of Rico how old he really was). Part of her thought he was trying to ingrain himself in the family, make their first thought be of him calling the Nuñez children his siblings. It was a clever way for an exposed changeling to remain in position.

But another remembered his shock when she’d named him, let him be someone other than a fake brother.

And she wondered if he was trying to convince _himself_ he belonged.

“Come on in, bro.” The word felt awkward, but the strange, hesitant look on Rico’s face when he came back into Claire’s room made it clear it was the right choice. Her parents may have agreed Rico had nowhere else to go, that it was best to let him stay, but it was clear he needed something more than that.

 _That sort of loyalty was not easily broken_. 

Claire paused at the thought, which felt strange, almost foreign. It wasn’t a pleasant thought, was downright worrying, actually, to think she might be capable of that sort of manipulation.

She shook it away as one of those dumb thoughts people had all the time. 

“So, why exactly did you wake me at the godforsaken hour of-“

“Ten o’clock?” Rico retorted with a sharp grin. “You should be asking how I kept your parents from noticing you were asleep this late.”

Which was a good point. “Is there a reason you decided to wake me up?”

“Yeah. I gotta show you something.”

Rico twisted up his face in concentration, and _changed_. Enrique - the one who’d aged a year for being outside the Nursery in the Darklands - stood before her.

“Well, that’s very impressive, but I don’t see what-“

“I shouldn’t be able to do this!” Rico snapped. “It’s basic changeling morphology. If you’ve got a familiar in the Darklands, you can take their shape, age, the whole thing. But if the familiar is harmed, or _removed_ from the Darklands…” He trailed off, giving Claire a steady look.

“You’re not supposed to be able to change shape. So how-“

“I don’t know! I’m not a Polymorph-“

“What did you try to change into?”

“ _That’s not important_!” But Rico’s face darkened, and Claire knew she’d need to wheedle that out of Rico someday. “ _Anyway_ , I’ve been thinking of everything I can, but I’ve got nothing.”

Claire could understand why he was agitated. The nature of changeling familiars was how Gunmar kept the changelings as his allies - he could expose all of them in one fell swoop if they stepped out of line. If changelings could maintain their power without a familiar-

_If they had grown beyond their original limitations…_

That would be very good to know.

“Claire! Your...friend is here!”

By that tone in her father’s voice, it was a boy. And given Eli wasn’t really _her_ friend, it meant Jim or Toby.

 _The Trollhunter_.

Claire growled and shook her head.

“You alright, Sis?”

“Just...weird thoughts.”

She waved Rico toward the door. “Alright, let’s go rescue whoever that is from Papa’s interrogation.”

What she found instead was Toby arguing with her mother about trolls.

"What I'm saying, Councilwoman, is that they're here, whether they've voting or paying taxes or whatever, and you're going to need to handle that."

"A fair point, Tobias, but we can't just up and make them citizens-"

"Why not? They've been here longer than us, been fighting to keep us safe, even though we never knew it. Down in Florida, a major corporation nearly bulldozed a troll city because they _aren't_ citizens."

Claire's mother shook her head. "I haven't had time to think about all this, Toby-"

"Well you should. This is all going to come out someday, Councilwoman, and do you want to be caught flat-footed, or have a plan?"

She gave Toby a long, assessing look. "You've thought about this."

"Somebody's gotta; there's been a war going on for _centuries_ , and humans and trolls trying to pretend the other doesn't exist hasn't helped _anybody_."

It was strange; Claire didn't think she'd ever heard Toby talk like that. She'd, she had to admit, sometimes thought of him as Jim's tagalong. Darci had mentioned something, though, about Toby and some clan of trolls - he'd led them to freedom or something. Something had clearly stuck with him, given his strident defense of troll civil rights.

When he saw Claire, though, he held up a hand to Claire's mom. "I'm sorry, but you're gonna have to excuse me a second - Claire!" He strode toward Claire before her mom could respond. "Hey." He grabbed her elbow and tugged. "Got anywhere private? We have to talk."

"Wha-"

"Come on, the study's quiet," Rico said, hopping forward and dragging Toby after him, the three of them stumbling in an awkward line to Claire's dad's study. Toby turned as soon as Claire closed the door, and then paused, looking Rico up and down.

"Huh. Nice duds, dude."

"I look like a twep," Rico retorted, folding his arms. "Now out with it - what's the problem?"

"Claire…" Toby gave her a careful look, and this close, she could see his eyes were a little red, "did you lose track of Jim at all...when you were in the Darklands?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean - are you sure the person who came back with you from the Darklands is _Jim_?"

Claire shook her head, startled. "No, I - we were together the whole time, except when he fought Fenrir. And I _promise_ you, that was all Jim; he was screaming the whole time."

Toby snorted. "Jeez, yeah, that sounds like Jim."

"So what's the problem?"

"He showed up at our house today and he's acting...weird. Out of character."

There was a time Claire would have dismissed that worry out of hand, back before changeling replacements, people getting lost in other dimensions, and every possible weirdness became a part of her life. But even so, she refused to accept this without some attempt at rationality.

"When you say weird, Toby…"

"I've known him over ten years. Either he got his brain swapped by aliens, or-"

There was a knock at the door. "Claire, your dad said I was supposed to tell you no kissing in his study. Toby, he didn't have any particular instructions for you, but you probably want to start updating your will. If you aren't making out in here, can I come in? I've got a...thing we need to talk about."

Claire gave Toby a questioning look; he shrugged, shaking his head, so she opened the door. Jim waved at her.

"Hey. Long time no see. I mean, I know we saw each other all the time for a while, but...hey, Tobes!"

"H - hi," Toby said, voice a little shaky, and Claire felt a flare of sympathy. At least she'd known for _certain_ what had happened to Enrique; at least her friends had known exactly who'd replaced her. "You know, Jim, when you were at my house earlier-"

"Your house? When?" Jim groaned and slapped his forehead. " _Fuck_."

Toby took a step forward, a thoughtful frown still on his face. "Jimbo?"

"The _Aspectus Stone_ , Tobes. Fuck, we should have asked about the name."

"The Aspectus Stone?"

Toby gave her an awkward smile. "We were experimenting with stones for the Amulet of Daylight, and Jim wanted one that let him 'fight with the strength of a thousand'-"

"But with a name like that, I'm pretty sure it means it lets the bearer _duplicate_ themselves. Okay, Tobes, think back. When I was at your house earlier, did I seem particularly...evil?"

Toby shook his head, paused, shrugged, and then gave Claire a helpless, wide-eyed look. "How would I know? He wasn't cackling about world domination or anything, if that's what you mean."

"Wait." Claire raised a hand. "Why would your duplicate be evil?"

"Because when duplicates or clones or, or-"

"Artificial intelligences programmed to think like you-"

"Yes, thank you," Toby continued, "show up, at least one of them turns out to be evil."

Claire opened her mouth to demand an explanation, but snapped it shut when she realized what it was. "You're talking about comic books," she concluded.

"Comic books, movies, Star Wars, whatever," Jim said.

"This _isn't_ a comic book, though. We have no idea how the Aspectus Stone works - it could just make duplicates that are just like you, and that wouldn't be… _bad_ , would it?"

Jim shrugged. "I'm really not comfortable with copies of me running around getting up to who knows what. Among other things, I don't think the Amulet is made to handle things like that. Besides, things like this, the duplicates always end up trying to take control of the original person's body."

"But how...do we know you're the real Jim?"

Jim winced at Claire's question. "What, do you want some secret I only told you? Like how when I was trying to distract you from goblins at the museum, I-"

"Wait, _that's_ what was going on?"

Jim grimaced. "I didn't claim to be the best at thinking under pressure, okay?" he snapped. He took a deep breath, stepped back. " _Anyway_ , we really should catch up to...however many clones there are. Get rid of the evil ones, see if we can get the good ones to just come along quietly, right?"

And Toby, in the corner of Claire's eye, nodded, a subtle jerk of his head.

"So any ideas where they'd go?"

"I couldn't say, really. But we should definitely keep an eye out - if they show up at the barbeque, they could cause all sorts of chaos."

"Yeah, that's...good thinking," Claire agreed, a little surprised at Jim's forethought. Maybe letting his sort-of friend drag him into another dimension on no notice had taught him something about thinking ahead.

… _She_ definitely wasn't going to another dimension without proper supplies again, that was for sure.

"Okay, so how about this? We get a signal, and if you see another Jim, use it to call me and I'll come deal with it."

Toby and Claire snorted at the same time; he gave her a startled look, and she shrugged. "Come on, Jimbo," Toby said, "we can handle a few clones ourselves."

"And I stood up to Angor Rot, remember? Nearly beat the Decimaar Blade."

"Huh." The flicker, widening of Jim's eyes was almost surprise. "I - hadn't really thought about that. Still, I bet the Aspectus Stone is the best way to get them back; I wouldn't want to accidentally spill radioactive goo everywhere because that's what the clones are made of or something, right?"

"That is...a point," Claire agreed. "So a signal, what should it be?"

"Gun Robot theme song?" Toby asked.

"I wouldn't - might mistake that for my phone, might not get there in time, right? Can either of you do bird calls?"

"Oh my god, just use a safeword. 'Cantaloupe', alright? Nobody's bringing any, so it shouldn't come up, right?"

Rico, who had been unusually quiet the entire time, swung up onto the desk, grinning toothily at the three of them.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Jim demanded.

"Ha!" Rico pointed at Jim. "I _told_ you I look like a twerp!"

"Okay, so 'cantaloupe'. We'll split up for efficiency. Tobes, you and Claire take the yard; Rico and I will case the house, alright?"

It was on the tip of Claire's tongue, a question why Jim was separating her from _her_ little brother, when Jim _winked_ at her, and she felt her face flush. She had _no idea_ what he thought might go on with her and Toby trying to hunt down a fake Jim, especially when _nothing_ had happened while the two of _them_ were backpacking through Hell for three months, but she had told him...stuff in the depths of the Darklands that she suddenly wasn't so certain he hadn't told anyone else.

But that was a worry for another day, because they needed to hunt down Evil Jim.

\---

"Sooo, what can we expect from fake Jim?" Jim had dragged Rico into the basement almost immediately, and they were searching for underground passages for...reasons Rico wasn't sure of at the moment. "Are we talking murderous, omnicidal, random hijinks…"

"He's going to want to get rid of the other duplicates...and me, so he can be the real Jim."

"You didn't uh, say that earlier."

Jim shrugged. "I didn't want Toby or Claire to worry. You know?"

"Yeah, I guess." Except...Jim had gone to Toby practically the moment he'd gotten the Amulet of Daylight, had begged for Claire to help him fight the Order of Dawn. He hadn't been shy about dragging other people into his orbit, helping to fight Morgana's and Merlin's war.

"So, uh, do you maybe have a better idea how many duplicates there are than you let on?"

"Three. It's a very magically potent number. 'The strength of a thousand' was propaganda, really. Though given how much stronger trolls are than humans…" Jim shrugged. "So, when are you getting out of here?"

"What?"

"Come on, your cover's blown, Claire's got her real brother back, you're obviously not sticking around here."

Rico felt a hitch in his chest. Claire had had no one to talk to except Jim for months; what had she shared with Jim? "Mr. and Mrs. Nuñez said I could stay-"

Jim scoffed. "What, until Claire's sick of you? Look, I'll admit you're a useful little gremlin, but Claire isn't in all this magic shit for the long haul, and when she's done with that, she's done with _you_."

Rico took a shaky breath, and another, hoping he could steady it. "Did Claire _say_ that?"

"What, _tell_ me she's going to abandon you someday? No, no one _says_ anything like that. It doesn't mean it's not going to happen, though - no matter what any human says, they're only in this war until it starts making real demands on them. Claire went as far as she did for her _real_ brother - so you should be thinking about where you'll go when she's done with you."

" _Cantaloupe_! Toby screamed from upstairs. " _Cantaloupe cantaloupe cantaloupe_!"

Jim grabbed Rico and hauled him upstairs as he sprinted (two steps at a time, nearly _flying_ ) up the stairs, slamming it open to find Toby, Claire, and Mary facing down a second Jim. His hands were out, empty, palms spread, and he was shouting over Toby. He had a thin scarf or something artfully wrapped over his head.

"Toby! Toby! Toby! Calm down!"

"Imposter!" Toby howled.

"Oh my god, keep it _down_ , Toby; we do not need my parents coming in here."

"Toby. Toby. _Yes_ , I'm not Jim. I'm Tiffany."

Toby paused, giving the fake Jim a careful look. "The _Trollhunter_?"

"Yes; Jim was using a crystal known as the Aspectus Stone, and it split Gawain and I-"

"Well, that's a relief." Jim twisted his hand, and Daylight was suddenly in his hand. He lunged, piercing Jim's - Tiffany's - throat, and she vanished with a gasp. "Huh." Jim examined the blade carefully. "I would have expected blood or something."

"What the _hell_?" Toby demanded. "You _killed_ her!"

"Oh my _god_ , Toby, she was already dead. I'm just sticking her back in the Amulet. It didn't even hurt." He paused. "Probably."

"Is everyone okay in here?"

They all looked up at the sound of Dr. Lake's voice. She stood at the entrance to the kitchen, staring carefully at them all. "Javier heard shouting and wanted me to check it out."

"Everything's _fine_ , Mom," Jim replied, giving her a weak grin.

"So why is Daylight out?"

"Is it?" Jim flicked his hand, and the sword vanished. "We're fine, Mom, really."

"Well, if anyone starts bleeding-"

"Don't remove anything stuck in the wound, apply pressure, and call 911. We _know_ , thanks! Lo - so long!"

Jim waited a moment after Dr. Lake left before he smiled back at Toby. "Anyway, you heard her - Gawain's apparently running around looking like Jim; you must have run into him. He's been mostly asleep for _centuries_ ; of course he'd seem off."

"Yeah, he was actually pretty tired. I think he was relieved to go back into the Amulet."

Jim froze, turned slowly toward the front door. Heeding instincts that had kept trolls safe for thousands of years, Rico only half-turned, so he could keep his eye on Jim while he examined the front door.

Because Jim, clad in the Armor of Daylight, stood in the doorway. "Who was that?" he asked, gesturing at the empty space where Tiffany had died.

"Tiffany," Toby said, voice a little strained. "Uh, Jimbo-"

"Yes?" the two Jims asked in unison, and Toby grimaced. Rico couldn't help his own groan; he didn't know Jim well enough to figure out which of these Jims was the real one, and which was-

" _Sloane the Frightened_!" The only Trollhunter who'd never taken to the duty, who'd run and hid rather than face the threat of Bular and the Gumm Gumms.

Both Jims turned, startled, to Rico. " _What_?"

"The people who popped out of the Aspectus Stone were Tiffany and Gawain - _she's_ been hanging around ever since she trapped Gunmar in the Darklands to keep an eye on things, and _Gawain's_ the first - no wonder he'd show up. _You_ said there were _three_ , though, Jimbo." He pointed at the Jim who hadn't just arrived. "And I can think of only _one_ Trollhunter who'd see this as an opportunity to eliminate the competition."

"It makes sense," First Jim said, nodding, while Second Jim scowled. 

"And you think _I'm_ him?" Second Jim demanded.

Toby was jerking his gaze back and forth between the two Jims, eyes wide, watery, and oh _fuck_ , Rico felt for him. Imposter battles were the _worst_ , especially with a _good_ one.

"Oh my god, Tobes, don't tell me you're letting this dude confuse you," First Jim said, quiet, a little forlorn. If he'd snapped, yelled, it would have been a clear sign something was wrong.

"Toby. Toby, calm down," Second Jim said, one hand out, soothing. "We can figure this out together; if that _is_ Sloane, he's probably been watching me for _months_ , figuring out how I act." Was that a slip-up, praising Sloane's preparedness? Or should he put more weight that Second Jim was more concerned with Toby's well-being?

"Okay, _this_ isn't getting us anywhere." Claire snapped her wrist, and the Shadowstaff was in her grasp. "Let's King Solomon this shit."

"King-?" First Jim looked confused. Claire twisted the Shadowstaff so it pointed at Toby's feet, and shrugged.

"Sorry, Tobes. It's for a good cause."

A gate of darkness opened beneath Toby's feet, and both Jims darted forward. " _Tobes_!"

"Oh, _come on_!" Claire snapped. "This is _ridiculous_!"

Floating just above the edge of the portal to the Shadow Realm, Toby looked down, then back up at Claire. "What...is going on here?"

" _I_ don't know; I thought only the real Jim would react instinctively to you being in danger."

"Plus, I would've bet money that in the heat of the moment, only the real Jim would forget you can do the whole floaty thing," Mary, who was seated primly on an armchair, poking at her phone, added.

"Guys, come on. I got it! I can summon Daylight!" First Jim said triumphantly.

"For the Glory of Merlin, Daylight is mine to command," Second Jim said flatly, and the armor and sword snapped into his hand; First Jim had Daylight back in his own, raised, ready to respond, by the time Second Jim was on the ground.

"Okay, okay. Let's keep calm," Claire said. "Please _no one_ fight in my parents' living room."

And that _would_ be worse; as long as they had the Jims talking, they were getting information, something they could use to expose the fake Jim. Once they started fighting…

Rico stared at the two Jims as the thought hit him. If Sloane were certain he could take Jim on his own, he'd use this confusion to do it; Jim's friends wouldn't dare risk hurting him or accidentally giving Sloane the upper hand. Sloane needed them on his side; needed Toby and Claire to agree before he tried anything.

"I don't know," he said, "Maybe we should let'em work it out for themselves. Jim killed Fenrir single-handedly. I bet he could handle a guy who spent decades _hiding_ from Bular and the Janus Order instead of fighting his own battles."

"Fine," First Jim sighed. "You might want to get anything particularly fragile out here before we get at it, Nuñez."

"Jim," Claire said, voice on edge. "I swear to _god_ , if you start fighting in here-"

"Sloane is _dangerous_ ," Claire," Second Jim said. "A paranoid conspiracy theorist with access to a powerful magical artifact."

First Jim lunged forward and Second Jim raised his sword up. A portal appeared under Second Jim's feet, and another just in front of First Jim. They each fell through the portals with a yelp, and then fell out of portals on opposite sides of the room.

"Toby!" Claire shouted. He grinned and stretched both hands out. Second Jim, still in the armor, grabbed at Daylight, which he'd dropped in the fall, and pulled. Paused. Pulled again.

"Sorry, Jimbo," Toby said. "If you _are_ Jim."

"Really on the ball there, Tobes," First Jim said. "I'm impressed."

"So how about we all just _calm down_ and don't make me teleport you to opposite sides of the _planet_ , okay?" Claire snapped.

Mary raised one hand from her chair. "Hey, Jim, idea - how about we get your imaginary boyfriend to weigh in on this?"

"What?" Second Jim demanded, cheeks reddening.

" _Who_?" First Jim demanded.

Mary clicked her tongue and pointed at First Jim. " _There's_ our imposter."

First Jim growled and snapped his fingers; his Daylight surged up into his hands as he leapt over the couch toward Second - toward _real_ Jim. Jim yanked his own Daylight up, nearly unbalancing as Toby was apparently no longer pulling at it. 

Toby did, though, wave at First - at _Sloane_ \- but nothing happened. "What the-"

"Did you think I'd let you interfere with this fight?" Sloane snarled. He slammed into Jim, blade knocked away by a parry from Jim. Claire waved the Shadowstaff at Sloane, but nothing happened. Sloane sidestepped a swing from Jim, drawing Daylight up to cut him.

Jim's form blurred and he was shoved aside, as another Jim, armored, armed, caught the swing, knocking Sloane back. Sloane rolled, hopped up onto the couch, and grinned when he saw the second Jim.

"Gawain, is it? I've read a lot about you - like top three of the Knights of the Round Table, right?"

The third Jim - Gawain, apparently - shrugged. "You need to come back, Sloane. You can't stay outside the Amulet forever."

"Yeah, but if I _kill_ the Trollhunter, _I_ can be the one who's wearing that body," Sloane growled. "I spent _thirty years_ looking for the fucking Alchemist's Stone so I wouldn't end up stuck in the Void, and now that I've got another chance, I'm _not_ giving up on it."

"Claire?"

Sloane's gaze darted to the kitchen; he drew out a delicate glass sphere and threw it at his feet. It shattered, and there was, for a moment, a sensation of cold and wind, and then Sloane was gone.

"Claire." Claire's mom appeared at the entrance to the living room. She looked around carefully, narrowing when she saw Jim's armor, and the broken glass on the floor. Gawain, it seemed, had dropped down next to the couch; Rico gave him a thumbs up. "Why don't you come outside? And Jim, maybe leave the sword in here, alright?"

"Um, sure, Councilwoman."

When she was gone, Gawain sighed. "Ugh. I thought I was _done_ with this. Jim, I'm going back - next time Sloane tries to kill you, get someone else to protect you, please."

"Yeah, sorry," Jim replied. "You were just the first person who came to mind."

"Ha!" Mary scoffed from her chair. Gawain shot her a puzzled look before vanishing.

"So how _did_ you figure it out?" Toby asked. "Sloane was… _pretty good_ at acting like Jim."

" _Acting_ like him, sure," Mary replied. "But he was still _thinking_ like himself. Mind, he's a quick thinker - Claire proved that when she tried to scare them in the hopes Jim would be the only one to panic. And I realized he probably knew everything you've told people, everything you've _seen_ , since you picked up the Amulet. Toby might have been able to trip him up with something old, but even then, he might be able to bluff. So I needed something that startled you both - but in different ways. I decided on embarrassment and confusion, ergo, bringing up the Trollhunter you apparently spent every evening in the Darklands talking to instead of my charming BFF over here."

Jim's flush returned. "We're not - Arthur isn't-"

"Oh my god, I was _joking_ ," Mary replied. "So calm your pretty little straight boy head about it."

"Yeah, but it's not like Sloane _wouldn't_ know who Arthur is - he was a Trollhunter, too," Toby protested.

"But I was _certain_ a paranoid white guy who died over thirty years ago wouldn't have any _idea_ who I might be calling Jim's boyfriend if there wasn't some dude you'd like, literally made out with. So." Mary hopped out of the chair, phone slipped into her back pocket. "We were summoned, I think, and I believe I deserve a triple cheeseburger."

Claire mostly deflected any questions about what had been going on when her mom walked in, and Sloane didn't show up again. But it put a pall over the barbeque.

Sloane had spent decades running and hiding. He'd apparently made stockpiles of magical weapons and defenses, given how he'd shut down Toby's gravity powers and the Shadowstaff. He'd been planning this breakout for a while, certainly long enough that he'd studied Jim's behavior for a more perfect imitation.

He'd be back, and he'd be better prepared when he was.

It was worrying, and it meant later that night, when he was supposed to be sleeping (changelings' diurnal patterns, to match those of the people around them, were just another way some trolls thought of them as impure), Rico couldn't.

He decided to share the misery and maybe see if he and Claire could brainstorm some solutions.

But when he reached Claire's room, it was empty. He felt a momentary chill, Sloane's warnings adding a thread of anxiety to his concern about Claire. _Was_ she going to abandon him someday?

A portal appeared just over Claire's bed, and she dropped down through it.

"Sis!"

She looked up at Rico, and he froze.

There was power, significance to one's eyes. Windows to the soul, some said. Claire's eyes were normally a rich brown - gentle, when she wasn't threatening to drop-kick you to Amsterdam for accidentally eating her favorite pair of socks.

Claire's eyes were not gentle. They were not rich, or warm.

They were two panes of black, windows not to her soul, but to the infinity of the Shadow Realm.

"Rico, _**stay**_ ," she commanded, and chains wrapped around Rico's soul, keeping him rooted in place. " _ **Hold your tongue**_." He found he could not shout, even whimper, as Claire stepped down from her bed, knelt down, patted Rico's head. "Convenient," Claire said, "that she made you her familiar. Her voice, from her body, can bind you, whether she or I is the one who wills it." She smirked, a smile framed by depthless voids instead of eyes. " _ **You will not speak of this, will not tell, anyone**_ , will you?"

Rico shook his head, and Claire patted his head. 

(Not Claire, not even close. He dared not think it - she could hear her name, even in others' thoughts, which was why they called her the Pale Lady, Baba Yaga, a thousand other names. Even without Claire's power over Rico, the glamour of the creature who now rode her could cause even those with the strongest wills to fall before her in despair of her beauty, her grace, to beg her forgiveness even as she killed them.)

"Good. You may speak on other subjects, freely, as you normally do. And of course, there may be other tasks I need your help with as time goes by."

"To help free Gunmar?"

Claire laughed, voice cold. "I have other people working on that problem. No, Rico. We have other plans. Bigger ones."


	9. Creepslayerz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eli and Steve are thrown together again to research a mystery that stretches back hundreds of years.

**A Long Time Ago in a Galaxy Far, Far Away**

Laira ran. Behind her, Veshall burned. The riots had quickly overwhelmed the police, and it was unlikely the military would arrive before the city was lost. She had misunderstood so much, underestimated what she was dealing with. A cult? Oh, it was so much more than that.

She had come to Hailayr in pursuit of old legends; some said that Hailayr had been the Pooka's home planet, ages ago. If there were anywhere she might discover if the Sleeping God truly had been born in the time before, or during, the Golden Age, it would be there.

And she had, in finding the Speaker of the Sleeping God, discovered secrets previous expeditions had failed to uncover.

Such as:

The Sleeping God had _real power_ , or at least worship of him followed a path that granted it. With the powers his Speakers and Clerics wielded, few saw reason to doubt that the Sleeping God could grant them immortality.

The Sleeping God encouraged, taught, _promoted_ Blood Magic. Even those who had not achieved the power of true acolytes or priests made casual sacrifices, developed an innate understanding for the limits of the art, and the ways to work beyond those limits.

They believed the Sleeping God was an entity whose enemies had throughout the ages tried, and failed, to destroy him. That buoyed by sacrifices made to him he would routinely rouse and bring his will to bear to the universe around him.

They believed there were three types of people in the universe: acolytes, sacrifices, and those who stood in the way between them and their god's will, who could expect nothing but their eternal enmity.

 _Where_ the Sleeping God slept was an academic question for most of them. He could accept their sacrifices no matter where they were, and when he roused, he would go where he wished.

There was a faction, though, who believed in pilgrimage. Who sought the resting place of the Sleeping God and served him by transforming the world around him into a reflection of his vision.

Asking about _that_ , though, placed one firmly into the category of those who stood in their way.

Whatever the Cult of the Sleeping God had planned for Hailayr, they had abandoned those plans in their effort to exterminate Laira.

\---

**The Present, in a Galaxy Much Closer**

Eli paused outside the art studio at the sound of raised voices. One was _definitely_ Steve Palchuk, but he couldn't place the other. Wary of what had happened the _last_ time Steve was wrapped up in the secrets of people _other_ than the burgeoning ranks of those working in defense of Arcadia Oaks from the Gumm Gumms, Eli nudged the door open.

There was a goblin perched on a table, gabbling at Steve. The goblin's face bore a prominent mustache - pen or tattoo or what, Eli couldn't tell, and looked agitated.

Steve just looked sort of tired. "Yeah, I _get_ it. But I've got school, and homework, and college to worry about, so I can't just wander the world looking for some - goblin god."

"Steve? What's going on here?"

Steve yelped and spun. When he saw it was Eli, he relaxed, a little, except his shoulders still looked a little stiff. "Hey. Pepperjack. This is-"

"Chaka!"

"Squab. He's a goblin."

Eli looked the short, gangly creature up and down, fighting back a smile. "I could guess. What is he _doing_ here?"

"Ignoring like, _three_ provisions of our roommate agreement," Steve sniped. "No sneaking into school, no letting other people see you-"

"Wak-"

"No, the agreement _doesn't_ have an exception for Pepperjack!"

"Should...I leave the two of you alone? This seems like a domestic dispute."

"No!" Eli took a step back at Steve's raised voice, and Steve himself fell back, eyes wide. "I mean...look. I could really...use your help. If you'd want to help me." He paused, swallowed. "Please."

This wasn't the desperate plea of Steve when he'd needed to get away from the Order of Dawn and needed to leave a warning about coming after him. But it seemed sincere, nonetheless. And despite himself, despite their history, Eli had been disappointed when Steve had basically vanished after warning them about the Order of Dawn. He'd thought - hoped - that the moment of solidarity from their assault on the headquarters would have grown into...an alliance, at least, even if they would never be friends.

Still...he had to check.

"Help with what?"

"Squab here wants me to help him find…" Steve paused, glancing at the goblin, who made a strange hooting noise and hurled his hands up. "Some sort of god. Like...I think the god of _goblins_ , maybe? They lost him or something."

Eli felt a surge of excitement in his chest. Having run into a wall on most of his current research projects (Gunmar's apparent invincibility, what let one of the spirits of the Amulet of Daylight to take control of Jim, and the whole alien question), the chance to look into something _new_ , a mystery no one even knew _existed_ , was a _dream come true_.

But Steve had always made fun of Eli for being an excitable geek (had made fun of Eli for a lot of things, but that was a common theme, up there with 'looking like a sissy' and 'being smart'), so Eli had to play it cool.

"I didn't know goblins had a religion."

"Whether or not they have a religion isn't the point, Pepperjack. The point is I need help telling Squab I can't run off with him to find some missing goblin or goblin idol or goblin god."

"Oh." Eli's excitement died in a moment; he'd forgotten Steve had wanted to get away from all this supernatural stuff. "Yeah, sure." He turned to Squab. "Look, I know Steve _seems_ like he can do anything, but he - all of us - are like sixteen-"

"Seventeen next week, Pepperjack!"

"And we can't just go on world-spanning quests to find disappeared gods."

Squab didn't protest, get violent, and it took Eli a moment to realize the goblin was just staring at him, eyes impossibly wide.

"Chaaakaaaa," Squab whispered.

Eli took a careful step back from the watchful goblin. "Steve, what is he saying?"

" _I_ don't know! I don't speak gobblydegook, or whatever they talk; I've been getting by on, like context clues." Squab began flapping his arms, and Steve brightened. "Oh, yeah! This is the guy who helped you break out of the Order of Dawn!"

"Wait." Eli waved a hand in front of Steve's face before he could get distracted. "If you don't speak...Gobblydegook, what makes you think they need your help looking for a god?"

Steve shrugged. "Seems pretty obvious. You're looking for a _god_ , right, Squab?" Squab threw up his hands again, hands splayed, a gesture that reminded Eli of something. Something that _wasn't_ a god.

...In fact, it was reminiscent of their kindergarten spring play.

"You're looking for a _flower_!" Eli declared. "Not a god!"

Squab shook his head. Nodded. Gave a confused grunt.

Steve groaned. "Oh my _god_ , this is why people hate asking nerds for advice. I thought I knew what was going on, but _now_? _I_ thought he needed to find like a god or important goblin. Now he wants, like a flower?" He glared at Squab. " _Which is it_?"

"Oh. My. God." 

Steve looked up from Squab, scowl softening a little. "What?"

"I know what Squab wants us to find."

"Yeah?"

" _The Lord of Flowers_."

Steve's face twisted, flattened. He raised a hand, paused, and then finally said, slowly, "Not to sound, like, offensive or anything, but that may be the _gayest_ quest I have ever heard."

Eli rubbed at his forehead, feeling a headache coming on. "No, the _gayest_ quest would be traveling to the underworld to beg Death to release your boyfriend's soul. This is just - do you know who the Lord of Flowers _is_?"

"I mean, he can't be _that_ important-"

"This might come as a surprise, Steve, but the Order of Dawn isn't the arbiter of what's worth knowing in the world. If anyone there knew about the Lord of Flowers, they wouldn't bother telling anyone, seeing as he's been missing for…"

"Chaka."

"More than fifteen hundred years," Steve said.

"Yeah," Eli agreed, rather than press further on _how_ Steve understood what Squab was saying. "He's supposed to be the creator of trollkind."

The following cacophony from Squab was too fast for Eli to pick out individual words, but Steve nodded as he went along (there was a story here, that Eli was finding himself desperate to know, what had taken the broken, tired Steve from four months ago and turned him into someone who would patiently listen to a goblin when he couldn't understand a word the creature said).

"Huh," Steve said.

"What? What's going on?" As Steve hadn't yelled at or dismissed Eli yet, Eli found his curiosity, his excitement at this new mystery growing.

"Apparently, when this flower dude disappeared, everyone flipped out. But this other dude-"

"Wa."

"This chick, came up with an idea. Goblins can find like, anything, so she told them to find the Lord of Flowers. But _then_ Gunmar came along and enslaved them all, so they've been doing the kidnapping infants thing."

"Wait." Eli was scrambling to decipher that bit of story, and grabbed on the first piece he could question. "What's that about finding anything?"

"Huh. Oh…" More jabbering from Squab. "No, yeah, I _get it_. Yeah, goblins are like, _super_ awesome at finding shit. Why do you think they send them on baby-hunting raids?"

"Because they're...small." The response sounded dumb, uncritical, like Eli was the sort of idiot who accepted the first answer he was given, but even as he chided himself for making it, his mind was skipping along on other thoughts. The implications of what Squab had told Steve. Someone had told the goblins to find the Lord of Flowers, the only person who might know how to _save_ trollkind. Morgana had enslaved them to kidnap children to make changelings for Gunmar's army.

Because as long as the trolls were starving, skirting at the edge of extinction, they had motivation to follow Gunmar. To side with Morgana in her war.

"Hey, Earth to Pepperjack! What's the big deal about this?"

And of _course_ no one at the Order of Dawn would have shared this story with Steve; they were invested in presenting trolls as animals, violent monsters. The real, _human_ reason for the rise of Gunmar would have been off-message.

"The Lord of Flowers made the Heartstones, and since he disappeared, they've been dying. Without them, the only way trolls can survive - well, reproduce - is by eating humans."

"What?" Eli couldn't help flinching at the spike in Steve's voice, the flash of anger across his face. Steve paused, staring at Eli, and then carefully uncurled his fists and took a step back. "What...the _hell_ , Pepperjack? If there's someone who can fix all this, why isn't every troll on the planet looking for him?"

"Because of the Gumm Gumms. Because of the Order of Dawn. The trolls are so caught up in all these fights to survive day to day, they don't have _time_ to worry about what might happen in a hundred, a thousand, years."

"Well, fuck _that_ ," Steve snapped. "Come on, Pepperjack, we're gonna find this Lord of Flowers."

It was such a confident declaration that for a second, Eli forgot the _numerous_ problems with such a quest, the third or so being that they really couldn't just go on a globe-trotting adventure to find a missing god.

But after a moment, Eli's brain caught up with current events and he decided to voice the _first_ problem with the plan. "Where would we even start?"

Steve gave Eli a wide grin, possibly conspiratorial, _definitely_ friendly. "The _library_ , obviously. What kind of a nerd are you where that isn't your first answer?"

Eli's _first_ retort _was_ going to be that he was a twenty-first century kind of nerd, who went to the _Internet_ with his problems, but then Steve grabbed his hand and tugged Eli out of the room after him, and the time for debating this subject was apparently over.

"Steve, where the hell are we going? The library's-"

"I don't know if you know this, Pepperjack, but the school library doesn't have an 'occult' section."

"Yeah, well, neither does the Arcadia Oaks Public Library."

"So we're getting my mom's car and going to Los Angeles."

"Steve." Eli was forced into a hopping run to keep up with Steve, who would not, it seemed, be deterred. "Whether or not Los Angeles has a thriving occult community, I doubt they have anything about _this_."

"Yeah, well, the way I figure it, whether or not they told people about it, there's one group that would have known everything there was to _know_ about the Lord of Flowers."

Eli felt a warning twist in his stomach. "Steve, I'm not supposed to fight terrorist organizations without checking with my mom first."

Steve paused and turned, one eyebrow raised, _clearly_ confused. "What?"

"She doesn't want me getting in the middle of supernatural fights unless it's _really_ important."

"She - _knows_? I've been hiding Squab and trying to get his buddies to scavenge, you know, _smarter_ so they don't get caught."

Eli shrugged. "Pretty much everyone's parent know by now. Jim, Toby, mine, Claire's."

"Councilwoman Nuñez?"

"Yeah." At Steve's frustrated growl, Eli risked nudging his side. "If you asked for help earlier, Steve-"

"And how was I supposed to do that? It was _abundantly_ clear you only helped me earlier because you didn't have any other choice. Anyway, I've been an ass to you for _years_."

Eli wanted to protest, but he couldn't deny the last part, or that Steve hadn't had a reason to expect support from any of them, especially after he'd abandoned them at the Battle of Fading Dawn.

"If it were important, we would have helped you."

Steve huffed, and then tugged Eli after him. "Come on. And don't bother about your mom; we're going to a _library_ , not a booby-trapped Aztec tomb."

Ninety minutes later, following a frantic ten-minute search for a way to re-open the door _into_ the secret Thule Society library, Steve slumped down against the wall. "Okay," he said, "I'm man enough to admit I was wrong."

"Really." It was hard to be wary of Steve when he had a goblin perched unmolested on his head while he scrabbled helplessly at what Eli was pretty certain was a one-way door, meaning Eli felt less need to conceal his frustration. Of course his mom would have said the same thing Steve had, but she would have based on years of worrying incessantly about Eli's safety, as opposed to the frankly naïve assumption that no one would booby-trap a library.

"Yeah, we are _not_ getting out this way."

Eli felt a flare of heat in his chest, and before he could think, he stepped forward and poked Steve's chest. "Of _course_ we're not! Because of _course_ the Thule Society, one of the world's most paranoid and _secretive_ secret societies, who didn't trust the Post Office with their mail, _would booby-trap their secret libraries_!"

Heart racing, panting, Eli slumped a little. It was quiet, and he realized he'd expected Steve to yell back, maybe hit him.

"Yeah, okay. This is totally my bad. Sorry."

"What?" When Eli looked up, Squab had been relocated to the floor, but Steve was staring evenly at Eli. He looked serious. Sincere.

"I fucked up. So, sorry. And if we die here, I guess I owe you a soda or something in like, our next lives or whatever."

Eli snorted. "If we die here, you're gonna owe me dinner _at least_ , Palchuk." He sighed. "Anyway, let's see if there's anything remotely useful here, or if we're going to die in the Thule Society's porn stash or something."

There was silence behind Eli, but he was pretty sure he wasn't going to get beat up (by _Steve_ ), so let it be. There was a library to explore, presuming it wasn't laced with _explosive runes_ or something.

"What the hell sort of porn needs to be buried a hundred feet underground behind a cursed door?"

Eli shrugged. "Hot Aryan sorceresses? Sexy lady dragons?"

"Sexy - like that dragon from Shrek?"

"If that's your type."

There was a sputtering sound behind Eli, and a chattering noise he guessed was Squab laughing. "I'm not - I don't want to fuck the dragon from Shrek, Pepperjack!"

"I'm not here to judge. This is a safe space, Steve."

"Are you _always_ this weird?"

"Only with my friends."

Eli paused as the stairs they'd been following down ended in a door, heavy, black, ominous symbols carved in its surface and inlaid with silver. It was quiet behind him again, so he took a moment to examine the symbols. There was definitely a sign for 'death' there, but it seemed to be modified by several other runes he couldn't identify immediately. He didn't expect the Thule Society to be so unoriginal to curse their door with death. Among other things, it was an easy curse to expect, and reasonably easy to protect against. Was that the sign for 'thought', or 'wit'? And did it make a difference? (Of course it did - there were different runes for them.)

"Are we friends, Eli?"

"...How about we see if we get out of this alive, first? Because if this gets us killed, we're _enemies_ , next life."

"...Yeah. Fair." There was movement, and a looming presence behind Eli. He ignored it, trying to pick out the pattern of the runes. Most rune spells he'd read about were simple - one or two symbols to get across a simple effect. But they were inefficient, throwing power into poorly-defined statements. With cunning and precision, though, more runes could be combined into complex, dangerous spells that could not be easily countered or dispelled. This one, Eli was certain, examined certain invisible characteristics to identify members of the Thule Society, and _destroyed_ those who failed its test.

"Sooo...what are we looking at?"

"I have _no_ idea. If I had an actual reference guide to runes with me, I could make a guess, but I am _certain_ trying to open the door would be a bad idea."

"Come on, seriously? Everyone acts like you're this big expert in magic shit; you should be able to do _this_."

Eli suspected Steve was trying to be supportive, in his own way. But football players didn't say, 'I believe in you', so it came out this way.

"Wakka cha!"

"Squab says you should just punch right through."

"Wa!"

"Like a...no, I'm not getting it, dude. A boss? Yeah, we'll go with that."

"I'll keep 'deliberately triggering a trap that would kill us at _best_ ' on my options list," Eli replied, distracted because he thought he saw something in the spell. The part that sought certain characteristics. It looked for wit, for strength, and last, after all the others, for…

'Strange blood'.

Well, no _wonder_ the Thule Society was so powerful, if none of them were full-blooded humans.

But it was a weakness in an otherwise well-crafted spell, because it was the last characteristic the spell looked for. If you could trick the spell into thinking _that_ characteristic was met, _it would assume the others were, too_.

He reached back a hand. "Hey, Squab, bite my finger."

"What? No. Squab, do _not_ bite his finger. Eli-"

"This spell needs 'strange blood' to open this door."

"Like...what?"

"It's _supposed_ to mean the blood of people who are only part-human, I think. All the best sorcerers in history were only part-human, and the Thule Society was clearly willing to overlook a little miscegenation for the sake of power. But the term's vague, and I'm pretty certain I can get around it with any blood that a white supremacist would consider 'strange'."

"My dad's Polish - would that do? The guys at the Order seemed to think so."

Eli bit back half a dozen responses, including wondering if Steve had needed friends that badly to ignore what complete dicks the Order of Dawn had been to its own members. "Can you just let the goblin bite me?"

"Ka!" There was a sharp sting and when Eli pulled his hand back, blood was welling up from his index finger.

"What the fuck dude I told you not to do that!"

"Wakka chakka!"

"Yeah? The Pepperjacks are _Jewish_ \- so if I kick you out and you have to live with them, there'll be no cheeseburgers. No sausage pizza."

Ignoring the debate behind him, Eli carefully pressed his bleeding finger against the rune for 'blood', and the silver began to pulse a dull blue shade. Four other runes lit up the same color, and then the door swung open without a sound.

"Take _that_ , poorly-designed security protocol!" Eli shouted. "Did you see?" He turned, grinning, at his audience - a goblin who couldn't pronounce 'protocol', and a jock who probably didn't know what it meant.

But Steve patted Eli's shoulder as he passed him, anyway. "Good job, Pepperbuddy. I _knew_ there was a good reason to take you along."

Eli's brain short-circuited for a moment at hearing the first nickname he'd ever received from another human being that _wasn't_ an insult, and so he could be excused for his delay in realizing no self-respecting paranoid asshole would put traps on the big obvious door and nowhere else.

He had a moment to take in the scene, a wide circle on the floor under Steve's feet, a snap, a spark, and the thought-

_What would Aaarrrgghh do?_

Eli slammed into Steve, sending them both tumbling forward as the world exploded into flame behind them. Squab yelped, bouncing off of a reading table as Eli's trajectory knocked him to the side.

As soon as they'd come, the flames were gone, leaving Eli sprawled on top of Steve in a wide alcove that opened out into a room set with metal shelves and glass casing, in which was-

Eli leapt up and bolted towards the bookshelves, only to be brought up short by what turned out to be Steve's hand gripping his belt.

"Dude," Steve said, "we nearly got _fried_. Take a fucking chill pill."

Eli fell back because, vulgarity aside, Steve was right. Once he was certain Eli wasn't going anywhere, Steve stood, and gave Eli a quick once-over. " _Fuck_ , dude, you cut it close."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't going to let you get _killed_ ," Eli retorted.

"Well, your shirt's a mess."

"What?" Eli tried to pull at his shirt, instead tearing off a strip of scorched cotton. "Um." He turned around, crossing his arms in front of him, and scowled when he saw Steve was still looking at him. He wasn't _ashamed_ , exactly, but the last five years of gym locker rooms had made the situation of being in partially unclothed around other people slightly nerve-wracking.

Steve rolled his eyes and yanked his shirt off. Eli yelped and looked away, and so didn't see that Steve threw his shirt at Eli until it hit him in the face. He pulled the shirt away, and looked up at Steve, who was wearing a…

White T-shirt underneath.

"Oh. Um. Thanks."

"No problem," Steve replied, shrugging. Squab, who had recovered from his short flight, hopped up between them, saying, as usual, something unintelligible. "No, it's a human thing. Plus, sometimes if you jump through a fireball, your clothes catch fire instead of you."

Eli pulled Steve's shirt on and knotted the waist of it to keep it from slipping unnecessarily, and then waved at Steve. "Okay. We can go. _Carefully_."

They didn't encounter any other booby traps, luckily, but the books themselves proved a problem, as the system of organization didn't immediately reveal itself.

"How the hell are we going to find what we need?" Steve demanded, shoving several unlabeled texts that had proven to be about philosophy back on the shelves.

"There _has_ to be an organization system, but yeah, Dewey Decimal is probably not it." There were ten larger cases with several dozen shelves, organized almost at random, but an hour of searching had Eli close to an answer. The shelf Steve had found the philosophy books on seemed to be entirely mundane topics, so Eli ignored it for now. Several shelves included magical theory and practice, but Eli couldn't understand the order, especially when he found an English-to-Draconic dictionary on one of the shelves.

And on another…

"Is there a photocopier in here or something?"

"What, why?"

Eli held open the book he'd found and waved it at Steve. " _This_."

Steve squinted at it. "'A Poison as the Gorgon's Glare'. What?"

"It's the recipe for Creepers Sun!" Eli was down to the last several drops he'd managed to buy off shady websites, a worrying place to be with the looming threat of the Gumm Gumms (it was impossible to return from the Darklands, but Jim had done it. And if there was a way, other people could find it. It was how things always were). 

"So? Take it."

"I…" Eli looked down at the book, and the carefully organized library, conscience warring between their obvious need for the book, the fact the owners of this place were possibly dead, and that they'd been working with Nazis for the last 70 years or so.

"Come on, Pepperjack. If you do it, I'll do it." Steve grabbed a book off the nearest shelf. "You get your creepy poison book, and I get…'Troll Myth: Legends of the History of the Inhuman Races'?"

"What?" Eli grabbed the book from Steve, flipping through the table of contents, before tossing it aside and checking out the shelf Steve had gotten it from. And here it was - mythology, research on sightings of the monsters of the world, and musings on which gods were real. He'd dragged a dozen promising books to one of the desks in the room when he noticed Steve...looming.

"Steve, you're sort of in my light."

"Look, I know you're nerding out over all these...books, but I really don't think we should be hanging around here longer than we have to."

Eli looked between the stack of books, and Steve, who looked actually _nervous_ , shifting from foot to foot. And now that Steve had brought it up, it probably _wasn't_ smart to linger in a library owned by an organization you'd done everything in your power to smash. So Eli grabbed up eight of the books and nodded at the remaining.

"Well, if we're taking these with us, you're going to need to carry some of them." It took less than three steps for Steve to lose hold of the small armful of books, grumbling as he scooped them back up.

"How the fuck do you carry all those without falling?"

"How do you throw a football? _Practice_ , Palchuk."

"And do you have an idea how to get out of here?"

Eli grinned at Steve and dropped down into a crouch; Squab scampered over, presumably sensing he was going to get attention. "Hey, buddy, you think you can find my mom?"

Squab paused, head tilted, for a moment, before letting out a triumphant, "Chaka!" and darting away.

"Come on!" Eli shouted, and followed. Steve cursed and chased after him, his inability to balance more than two books at once making up for his advantage in height. They followed Squab through a back door to the library room, into a narrow hall, and an unremarkable patch of wall Eli wouldn't have noticed if Squab hadn't kicked it open. Once outside, four blocks east of where they'd entered, it took some effort to keep Squab from _running_ the whole way home.

The ride back to Eli's house was quiet; he was flipping through the books, trying to figure out what in them might be useful. Unfortunately, none of them were organized well enough that he could tell one way or another, so he wasn't anywhere closer to an answer when he clambered out of Steve's mom's car, tugging all of the books in a precarious pile.

"Hey, uh, Eli?" Eli paused, foot ready to kick the car door closed, and looked back at Steve, who looked...nervous. Uncertain. "You think maybe you need help with all those books?"

And Eli didn't, really. And he was pretty certain Steve knew that.

But...Steve hadn't gone to football practice, and had been arguing in the art room with a goblin. He'd lost something in the last year, and was looking for something to replace it.

And maybe Eli didn't like him, exactly. But Steve had done something hard last year, and something else hard today, reaching out to Eli for help.

"Yeah, come on. I'm getting a new shirt, first."


	10. Crime and Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saturday detention becomes a nightmare as one of Jim's enemies takes the opportunity to attack him.

**Some Time Ago, in a Galaxy Much Closer**

Sebastian didn’t know what to think of Laira. 

She’d confirmed she was an alien, putting Sebastian in the elite rank of U.S. intelligence agents who’d had contact with extraterrestrials. 

Sometimes she suggested she was involved in some sort of operation, and others she suggested she was stranded on Earth (in light of that, he’d concluded she was assigned to an operation with little field support; he’d been there, feeling he was stranded, alone).

She was capable, certainly. Stealthy, powerful (Sebastian had seen half a dozen scenes that were clearly the results of her being forced into a fight, and her capability was beyond question). But she was frightened of something on Earth, had enemies she was worried she couldn’t match.

She wasn’t hostile to Sebastian, and she’d never suggested hostility toward America. But she’d never named her enemies, and some days he wondered. Worried.

It shouldn’t matter if she was an enemy - she was an agent of a foreign power.

But it did.

She was intelligent, quick on her feet, and had beautiful eyes.

And if she turned out to be an enemy, he wasn’t certain if he could bring himself to put her down.

It was a joke, how the warning was in every training class and briefing they had, as if they’d forget it.

They’d warned Sebastian not to fall in love with enemy agents. They hadn’t taught him how to tell if it was happening before it was too late.

—-

**The Present**

Jim paused in the doorway to the classroom that had been repurposed for detention today. Toby and Darci he'd expected, both having been involved in Jim's fight against the fiery snake that had nearly burned down the cafeteria. Steve was slightly less expected, although the presence of Eli in the seat next to him provided several viable hypotheses. Mary, texting in the back row, was an irregular fixture in detention, showing up whenever teachers wanted to make a point about using phones in class. Claire wasn't much of a surprise, either, as she'd been moody and hostile since they'd returned from the Darklands.

Shannon Longhannon, though, gave him pause. She looked over and raised an eyebrow at Jim, reminding him that he'd vanished for close to three months after saying he'd call her.

"Mr. Lake, _sit_ ," Se˜or Uhl commanded, so Jim did, hurrying past him to take a seat next to Toby. "Now, all of you are here for disruptive, disrespectful, or destructive behavior, and as such, you will be _quiet_ , _stay here_ , and do homework or something _productive_ until this little Saturday detention session is over." He sat back in his chair behind his desk. When a few moments passed without any movement, Señor Uhl grunted, " _Go on_. Or I could assign an essay about the value of keeping the peace in a high school setting, or the value of blind patriotism or something." He stared pointedly at Jim until Jim reached down to pull out his history textbook. Jim saw Eli pull out something that was probably _not_ for school, given the weird letters on the cover, but Señor Uhl only seemed to care that they weren't talking, because he didn't call Eli out.

It didn't take long for the silent work to get boring. Jim shot Toby a few glances; Toby was reading the Arcadia Oaks Charter, probably a continuation of the debates he'd been having with Councilwoman Nuñez. Steve was reading a book that looked as arcane as the one Eli was reading, taking laborious notes as he did so. Eli had mentioned Steve had been hanging around, helping him study one of his supernatural mysteries, but Jim had expected that to mean stealing sodas from Eli's kitchen and making snide comments, not _reading_.

Mary had not looked away from her phone, which didn't say anything about what she was really up to. Claire had out a notebook in which she was writing, focused solely on the paper. Shannon seemed to be doing biology homework, and Darci was reading 'Darkly Dreaming Dexter'.

Up at the front of the room, Señor Uhl shifted, a scowl flashing across his face. He stood abruptly. "Alright, troublemakers. I've got to go make a pit stop, but you'd better stay _put_. If I find any of you have moved an _inch_ when I get back, you'll be in detention until graduation!"

He'd been gone thirty seconds before Shannon piped up, "Okay, who did it?"

"Did what?" Jim asked.

"Poisoned Señor Uhl," Mary replied. "That is the face of a man on a mission, and it is _not_ a pleasant one. My money's on Pepperjack."

"I _wouldn't_!" Eli squeaked.

"Yeah, lay off him, Wang!" Steve snapped. The speed of his reaction suggested the studying wasn't an alliance of necessity, if it ever had been.

"Scott?"

"Ugh, I'm not gonna risk jail time without a _really good_ reason."

" _Toby_?"

"Have you considered the possibility no one poisoned Señor Uhl?" Jim asked. "People have to go to the bathroom sometimes."

"I'm going to expect an apology, Jim, when it turns out I'm right." And ten minutes later, when Señor Uhl hadn't returned, Mary was _smirking_.

Steve took Señor Uhl's absence to stand from his seat, stretching, and ending up looming over Eli's chair, reading over his shoulder. And it was a sign how things had changed, that Eli seemed unconcerned with Steve behind him, even leaning to the side to make it easier for Steve to point at something on the page.

After fifteen minutes, Darci dropped her book and looked up at the assembled teens. "This is boring."

"I think that's sort of the point," Jim replied. "Sitting here thinking about what we did."

"Yes, but we are a group of delinquents and troublemakers - why should we sit around being bored to death?"

"Yeah, but if we leave, we're going to end up in _more_ trouble," Jim retorted.

The classroom lights flickered once and went off.

They all waited in silence for a moment, but the lights did not return.

"Well, there's only one responsible thing to do in this situation," Darci said. "Wander aimlessly through the school looking for the circuit breaker. Jerk Jock and Super Nerd, you're with the Hardy Boys. Shannon, you're with us."

"Guys, Señor Uhl-"

"Will understand. We can't sit here in the dark. One of us could get the Plague or something,"

"How does that-"

But Mary, Claire, and Shannon were already following Darci out the door. 

"We'll check in later if we're not dead!" Shannon said cheerily.

Jim sighed as they left. He was going to have to explain this all to Shannon someday, when doing so wouldn't expose his allies to the unwanted scrutiny of the United States government or worse, the media.

But for now-

"Hey!" He scrambled out of his chair to block Steve from leaving. "We can't just go wandering out there."

Steve rolled his eyes and looked back at Eli, who shrugged. "Darci's right; Señor Uhl's continued absence suggests he won't be back for a while. And we can't exactly do our homework in the dark."

"But you're not _doing_ homework," Toby pointed out.

"Yeah, what _are_ you doing?"

"None of your business, Lake!"

" _Steve_ ," Eli said warningly.

"Ugh. It's a secret mission," Steve corrected.

Jim gave Eli a quick look. Eli gave Jim a helpless shrug, making clear whatever he thought about it, Eli wasn't about to contradict Steve on his insistence for keeping the details of their research secret. Jim decided to leave it alone; Eli might be unreasonably reckless about his own safety, but he wouldn't do anything that would endanger _others_.

"So," Toby said, "are we heading out there or not?"

"We could put it to a vote?" Eli suggested.

"Yeah, my boy Pepperjack's got the right idea!" Steve agreed. "I'm in. Eli?"

"We should at least check up on Señor Uhl."

Steve looked to Toby, who raised a hand, giving Jim a weak smile. "Come on, what's the worst that can happen?"

Jim didn't answer, because his mental catalogue of what the 'worst' could be took a lot longer than it used to. Steve, though, seemed to take Jim's silence as assent, pushing past him (gently). The hallway was dark, at least until Eli snapped his fingers, conjuring a flame that he held in the palm of his hand, shedding light in a wide circle around them.

"So where are we going? The equipment room?"

"I think we should check on Señor Uhl," Eli said.

"Why? It's not _our_ job to keep an eye on _him_."

"Because I've got a bad feeling about this, Steve."

Steve paused, glancing at Eli, and then at their surroundings, slowly, carefully. He edged a little closer to Eli. Jim scanned the hall himself, but didn't see what had set Eli off.

Toby, though, edged closer to Jim.

"Tobes?"

Toby raised his hand, pointing at the far end of the hall, which was dark. "Emergency exit lights are out, dude. Bad sign _and_ against fire codes. Means we shouldn't even be in the building."

"Ironic, isn't it?"

Eli yelped and ducked behind Steve; Jim only barely restrained himself from calling the Armor of Daylight. Ms. Janeth stood a few doors down, the lower half of her face illuminated by the flickering of Eli's flame.

"Ironic?" Toby asked shakily.

"Yes," Ms. Janeth replied. "That the Exit signs, the beacon of last resort for those trapped in the darkness, are themselves dark. That the circumstance that requires you to leave by them has itself rendered them useless. Irony."

"I...guess," Toby said. "But this might not be the best time for a lesson on literary devices."

"Oh it's the perfect time!" Ms. Janeth took a step forward. She wasn't large, or menacing, but something made Jim take a step back. "After all, the best way to appreciate the theatre is to _live it_. Don't you agree, Mister Pepperjack?"

"Um?"

"I, as you know, am a fan of the Bard. Particularly his _tragedies_."

"Eli, get back!" Jim shoved Steve and Eli aside as he darted forward. "Forthegloryofmerlindaylightisminetocommand!"

Daylight clashed with another blade, sending both Jim and the person wearing Ms. Janeth's face falling back. The sword looked like Daylight, but was slimmer, curved. Ms. Janeth caught her balance and lunged forward, moving faster than Jim could react.

Steve was suddenly between the two of them, aiming a low kick at Ms. Janeth that sent her tumbling to the ground. She rolled back, hopping up, and darting back toward Jim and Steve.

"Jim, I can't get ahold of her - it's like back at the Nuñez's house!" Toby shouted.

Jim was a little preoccupied trying to keep Ms. Janeth from cutting his arm off, but Toby's assessment allowed for several hypotheses.

First, that Ms. Janeth was part of an evil race of being capable of disabling Toby's gravity powers. Not impossible, but Jim felt it would be an unreasonable and unfair compounding of weird magic shit in his life.

Second, that Sloane had picked up the ability to shape-shift, which was also not impossible, and a level of unfair that was at least consistent with the assumption Sloane had been planning something like this for years.

"Fuck this," Steve growled.

" _Language_!" Ms. Janeth retorted. But when Steve raised his right hand, her eyes widened, and she dodged to the side a second before Steve stretched his hand out and a bolt of lightning lanced out, missing Ms. Janeth and striking the lockers at the far end of the hall.

She was suddenly in close to Steve, forcing Jim to step in and deflect her swing while Steve, arm held stiff against his chest, tried to sidestep the strike.

"Ms. Janeth?"

Ms. Janeth looked away from Jim and Steve for a moment, and then was dashing back down the hall toward the scorched lockers, where Claire, Darci, Mary, and Shannon stood, looking startled.

" _Fuck_!" Mary shouted.

Darci shoved Shannon to the side. "Go get help!"

"But what about-"

"We'll be _fine_!" Claire snapped, just as Ms. Janeth reached the group and swung Daylight at her. Claire's hand twisted through a complex gesture and when the blade slammed into her, she flew back and hit the lockers with a clatter. Eli winced.

"What the hell?" Claire demanded. "That should have-"

"Homer named moly an herb used to nullify the powers of witches. This is nothing so simple, but it will dampen the magic of even the most _powerful_ sorcerer." Ms. Janeth spun, swiping at Darci, who threw a trash can in between her and Ms. Janeth, and, dropping onto the floor, kicked up.

Ms. Janeth let out a wheeze and fumbled with her sword, at which point Mary slammed her math binder into the back of Ms. Janeth's head.

" _What_ is going on here?"

All motion stopped; Señor Uhl stepped into the hall at the far end, Shannon huddled in his shadow.

"Um," Darci said.

"I thought you said you didn't need _help_ ," Señor Uhl continued.

"I...underestimated the...little bastards. So we might need leverage."

"Fair enough." Señor Uhl grabbed Shannon, yanking her up in a tight grip. "Hey, children! If you do not surrender the Trollhunter, I may be forced to harm this innocent child!"

"What?" Jim looked back at Ms. Janeth, who had used the distraction to get out of reach of the girls, Daylight tight in her grip. Mr. Uhl didn't have the blade or the armor, but was clearly on Sloane's side.

"You don't need the Decimaar Blade to make friends, Jim," Ms. Janeth hissed. "Nothing's as strong, as irresistible as that little toy, but as long as the target can follow orders, it's the same." She reached up and pulled something away from her face, body shifting to one that looked like Jim - confirming he was actually Sloane. He tossed the object, something like a mask, aside, and took a step toward Jim, grinning. "Hey, Uhl, you wanna apply some pressure?"

Shannon grunted behind Jim; he couldn't spare a glance for her, not with Sloane in front of him.

"The - school board - is - going to hear - about this!"

"And?" Sloane retorted. "He doesn't care right now. He thinks this is all a pleasant dream where he's allowed to murder unruly students."

"But - what the hell did you _do_ , Shannon?" Toby shouted.

"So what's it going to be, Trollhunter?" Sloane asked. "Your life? Or the girl's?"

And Jim froze. He knew, in a distant, abstract way, that a moment like this was inevitable, that eventually he'd have to choose between his duty - keeping the Amulet of Daylight in the hands of someone who would use it protect people - and someone he cared about. Had talked with the other Trollhunters about it. He knew Tiffany's thoughts, knew Francis the Forgettable's, Synclair's…

And Arthur's.

'How you answer that question defines what sort of Trollhunter you are'.

Jim didn't want there to have to be a choice. Didn't want to worry about protecting Shannon or protecting everyone else.

'What sort of Trollhunter you are…'

Jim felt a jolt in his chest when the answer came to him. What sort of Trollhunter was he?

 _One who didn't have to fight alone_.

" _Well_?"

Jim threw Daylight at Sloane; startled, Sloane snapped up his own Daylight to knock it aside, but it was a moment he had to spend responding to a threat rather than give orders. And Toby might not be able to throw himself across a room using his powers like he normally could, but he had been training for months; Jim had to trust he could reach Señor Uhl in time.

Jim couldn't afford watching, but Steve barreled past him, so he figured they had things in hand. He swept Daylight at Sloane, who conjured the blade without a word, blocking, knocking Jim's blade aside, and spinning low, under Jim's counterattack, stabbing up. Jim stumbled back, running into a locker, heart racing as he realized he was trapped.

Sloane yelped suddenly, sinking down onto one knee, and Jim didn't look around, didn't think, just stabbed forward, Daylight running through Sloane's throat, and the stolen body vanished.

For a moment, six glittering gems hung in the air where the copy of the Amulet of Daylight had been; one evaporated, and the other five fell to the ground. 

Jim looked up; Eli was standing in front of him, and when he saw Jim looking, waved at him.

"Thanks for the assist," Jim said.

"Hey, anytime - _Steve_!" Eli scrambled around, but by the time he and Jim reached Señor Uhl, he was unconscious, Shannon pulling a foot back to kick him.

"Shannon, don't!"

She paused, giving Jim a careful, narrow look. "And why not? One of the benefits of being assaulted is you can usually get a few good licks in without anyone asking too many questions."

"Señor Uhl wasn't really in control of his actions. That guy I was fighting-"

"He looked like Ms. Janeth."

"Right. He had Señor Uhl under some sort of mind control."

"And called you Trollhunter."

"Um, yeah."

Shannon folded her arms in front of her, giving Jim a long, assessing look. 

And then nodded. "Alright. We've got to take care of Señor Uhl so he doesn't think we left the detention room."

"Or knocked him unconscious."

"Yeah, that either."

Under Shannon's direction, they dragged Señor Uhl into the detention room and behind the desk. And when he jerked awake ten minutes later, they were gathered in a circle around him.

"What-"

"Are you alright, Señor Uhl?" Shannon asked.

"What happened?"

"You were just heading to the bathroom when you collapsed!" Darci said. "Jim said we shouldn't move you in case you'd hurt your spine."

"My spine? No, I'm…" Señor Uhl frowned, pushing himself up to a sitting position. "You said I...fell?"

"I think you might need to go to the hospital," Jim offered.

"I could drive you!" Steve said. "Make sure you get there safe."

"Yes, that might be...for the best."

"And don't you worry about us; we'll get home just fine," Mary assured, patting Señor Uhl's back.

And despite their victory, despite everyone surviving, Jim felt a little thrill of worry when he got home and his phone rang, showing a call from Shannon.

"Hey, Shannon."

"So," Shannon said, voice even, quiet. "Trolls. Gonna cut into your time training to be a professional chef, right?"

Jim laughed, and somehow, it was as easy as that. Shannon didn't want, or at least didn't ask for, every little detail. Just accepted that in this life there were trolls, and a Trollhunter, and sometimes that meant your Spanish teacher got mind-controlled by a guy who'd been dead for thirty years and tried to kill you.

Which Jim got - if _he'd_ had a choice, he'd rather worry about the SATs and getting into college over defeating an army led by an unkillable troll king.

\---

**The Present, in an Infinite Void**

"This isn't over."

Jim raised an eyebrow at Sloane, who was leaning against a chalkboard on which were written notes, scribbled questions, diagrams.

"It sort of is. I'm not using the Aspectus Stone again. You're not getting out."

"That might be true. But then again, it might not. I've been doing a lot of thinking, Jim. About the Amulet. About you." Sloane pushed himself up and circled Jim slowly. "And I've come to a conclusion." He grinned. "You're being _played_."

"What? Are you talking about Archimedes?"

"God, no! Look, with one unfortunate exception, every Trollhunter's gone into this thing with open eyes. As much as _I_ complain, that stupid owl never lied to me. I just thought it'd be easier to find loopholes in this whole setup than it turned out to be.

"No, I'm talking about 'Arthur'."

Jim felt a twist of unease in his chest, a tightness as Sloane touched on the one thing that had been bothering Jim about the Amulet.

...Or, a lot of little things summed up in one word.

'Arthur'.

"It's a fortuitous coincidence, isn't it, that when you take up the Amulet, there's a sympathetic kid in here to talk to? Someone who's willing to train with you, listen to you, support you?"

"The spirits of Trollhunters rouse when the current Trollhunter is more like them."

"True," Sloane agreed. "But think about what you _know_ about the Amulet. Merlin cut off Morgana's hand to make it, the same way Angor Rot pried out one of her eyes. But she yet lives, though a portion of her soul resides in each of these artifacts."

"You don't mean-"

"There has _never_ been a Trollhunter trained in Shadow magic, and yet Arthur has used it to protect you. Ever since I saw Arthur do it, I've been trying to take control of your body, and it's _never worked_. When you were in the Darklands - _Morgana's Realm_ , none of us could reach you...except Arthur."

Jim shook his head, not certain if he was trying to banish the thoughts Sloane's accusation brought up, deny the truth of them, or-

"Morgana is a master of Shadow Magic. Morgana can bend others to her will with just a thought. They do not need an oracle or intermediary to speak to Morgana in the Darklands, because her presence fills it. Face it, Trollhunter. Morgana has played the part of someone she knew you'd come to care for, trust, so when the time comes, you'll follow her advice instead of doing what needs to be done."

Sloane patted Jim's shoulder. "So don't feel too mad at me. At least I was _honest_ about what I wanted from you." He wandered back toward his chalkboards. "And if there's anything else you need to talk about, my door's always open."


	11. Hallow's Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The kids manage all the classic Halloween activities - handing out candy to trick or treaters, breaking into a graveyard, and a good old fashioned exorcism.

**Not Long Ago, in a Galaxy Much Closer**

Sebastian cradled Tobias in his arms, cooing at the baby at irregular intervals. Laira couldn't hold back her smile; despite her pain and exhaustion, this was what she'd wanted when she'd agreed to settle down with Sebastian. An end to a life spent traveling from world to world, trailed by devastation and pushed by the need to learn more, to discover the secret to all of this.

Because she'd begun to suspect there wasn't a secret, that she'd been chasing phantoms across the known - and unknown - universe. That there _was_ no Sleeping God. That the Cult was just Blood Mages banding together, drawn together by the promise of immortality and strength in numbers.

And so when Sebastian had suggested...a life beyond the flirty meetings they'd had when their respective missions overlapped, Laira had...well, she hadn't jumped at the chance, not immediately, but.

She'd been tired and frustrated at her continued failures. Now, she was tired, but accomplished, too. And happy. She might never see her family back on Akiridia, but she had a new one here.

A reason to put it all behind her.

\---

**The Present**

Toby took one last look in the mirror to check his costume before heading to Jim's. It wasn't _technically_ a costume, most of it having been scavenged from the Trollmarket armory (Blinky had spent the entire visit peppering Toby with questions about the holiday). They had yet to find a hammer with any magical properties worth mentioning, so he'd bought something at the costume store. But yeah, altogether, he made a pretty dashing Thor. He swung around the plastic hammer, giving it a bit of weight so it moved convincingly, and smiled.

Yeah. Like a _boss_.

Jim took his sweet time answering the door when Toby rang; they'd need to work on their response time for when the trick-or-treaters showed up. He whistled at Jim, though, when he opened the door.

"Looking good, Jimbo."

Jim huffed and shook his head. "Come on, Tobes, it's just a crappy costume."

"Nah, I'm serious. If there were more teenage trolls around, you'd be a _heartthrob_. Hell, I bet you couldn't do better with that mask we got off Sloane - the one that makes you look like other people."

Jim winced at the mention of Sloane. Toby didn't blame him for it; fighting a guy who looked just like Jim had been unnerving enough without _being_ Jim.

But Jim _did_ look good - if he weren't basically Toby's brother and trying to look like another species...well, those were a lot of hypotheticals. He'd gotten a headband with goat horns, painted his skin blue, and even tracked down some fangs to give him an appropriately ferocious look. Like Toby, he'd repurposed functional armor for his costume, but had foregone an actual weapon.

"Anyway, I was promised godlike snacks and the opportunity to hand out candy to trick-or-treaters with my best bud. So…?"

Jim stepped aside, waving Toby in; Toby hopped in and made a beeline for the candy bowl, which he appraised carefully. "Nice assortment, none of that 'fun-sized' crap, no flavorless gum - Dr. Lake did good."

"Glad you approve." Jim stepped up, tugged Toby around, and pulled him into a tight hug. Which, you know. Nice. Toby squeezed back, possibly a little tight, but he was allowed; he'd spent a couple months worried he'd never be able to do this again. 

"I'm glad you're here," Jim mumbled.

"Hey, where else would I be? Now come on, what's our plan?"

Jim waved at the couch. "I got snacks and queued up like twelve seasons of Chopped."

Toby grinned and patted Jim's shoulder. "Studying up?"

Jim flushed and looked away, shrugging. "More like...wishful thinking."

"Dude?" The slump of Jim's shoulders set a clench of worry in Toby's chest. He'd seemed...okay after returning from the Darklands, but Dr. Lake had warned Toby that Jim might start showing the stress of his experience weeks, or even months, afterward. The important thing was to be patient and supportive which was Toby's _jam_. But it was still worrying.

Jim dropped onto the couch in front of the TV and grabbed a miniature eggroll that honestly smelled delicious, but Toby was on Jim protection duty, so mere material concerns went on the back burner.

"So...Chopped?"

"I'm never gonna be able to do stuff like that, Tobes."

"Impress Amanda Freitag? That's defeatist thinking."

"No - being a chef. Having a real, normal life! Shannon's gonna be a epidemiologist...or something, which she can _do_ , because she won't be looking over her shoulder every day for Gunmar or Morgana or whoever to attack her."

"...Oh." Toby'd thought about that occasionally, how they were going to keep this up when they were adults and had rent and utilities to pay.

When they had to keep up health insurance to handle the constant and inevitable injuries.

(Presuming Jim lived that long, Toby found himself thinking at the dark end of 3 AM when he woke from nightmares of shipwrecks and empty graves.)

"Some days I wish my dad _had_ gotten this stupid amulet," Jim muttered. "But then I remember he's a deserting asshole who can't commit and...he wouldn't _care_. Wouldn't care about _Trollmarket_ , that's for sure."

Toby sat down next to Jim and tugged him into a sideways hug. "You're a good dude, Jim Lake Jr. But whatever happens, I've got your back."

Jim mumbled something in response; it was quiet, but sounded angry.

"Jimbo?"

Jimbo sat forward, pulling out of the hug, hands resting on his knees. "How can I be sure?"

It was like a punch in - in the _heart_. "How can you _say_ that?"

"Because someone I _trust_ \- someone I thought I knew - has been lying to me! Because I don't know anything about what's going on, or who to believe in-" He broke off with a choked sob, and Toby couldn't just leave that be, so he pulled Jim back to him.

"Jimbo, you can't let one - thing do this to you. Like, is it your mom?" Jim shook his head. "Me?"

"Of course not," Jim choked out.

"Archimedes? Draal?"

"I don't want to _talk_ about it, okay?"

So Toby let it drop, even though he had a suspicion who this was about - who Jim might have trusted, have come to rely on, whose lies might hurt him like this. He turned on the TV for Jim's Chopped marathon, and took the first couple of groups of trick-or-treaters, showing off his hammer tricks to the delight of the kids, until Jim was able to pull himself together and show off his troll face (a good approximation of Draal's default scowl) to the next groups.

So it wasn't the best night. Still, Toby thought he'd done some good, even if Jim still seemed shaken; he didn't voice uncertainty about _Toby's_ support, at least.

Because whether or not Jim was convinced, Toby had Jim's back - would as long as Jim needed to fight this war.

\---

Steve froze a moment too late entering the kitchen; Coach Lawrence was there (why hadn't his mom _warned_ him?), eating an apple. The man smiled brightly at Steve.

"Hi, son."

"I'm not-" Steve cut himself off rather than get into that fight. He had places to be. "Whatever. Did you see where my mom stuck those vinegar chips?" He pulled open a cabinet he was _pretty_ sure usually held the snacks, and _score_ \- there was a bag of gingersnaps next to the chips.

"Didn't think you liked those."

"They are literally the _worst_ ," Steve retorted. "But I am heading out, and trying to be 'thoughtful'."

"Hence the costume?"

"Yeah, what of it?" Eli had insisted, even though they weren't trick-or-treating or going to a party. 'To get into the spirit', he'd said. So Steve had dug out his go-to - the fuzzy ears, gloves, fangs, and clip-on tail that made him a half-assed werewolf.

"I was just curious. So you got a big night planned?"

Eli had not explained _what_ their plans were; he'd just gone all bright and bubbly when Steve had agreed to hang with him on Halloween instead of pregaming with the team and heading to Susan Letta's party.

So Steve shrugged. "Hanging out."

"You aren't going to be vandalizing anything, are you?"

Steve snorted, because, burning down the headquarters of a terrorist cell aside, Eli was the _last_ person he would imagine egging people's houses on Halloween. "I doubt it, not that it's any of your business."

Coach Lawrence's smile weakened a little; he reached a hand out to Steve before letting it drop. "Well, be safe."

Steve paused halfway out of the kitchen. _He_ might not have risked his life much in the past year (just joined a Nazi terrorist cell, murdered a professional assassin, sniped the leader of said terrorist cell, escaped a shapechanging monster, and broke into a booby-trapped magic library), but Eli did not share his relative caution.

"Steve? Son?"

"I'll be fine." The doorbell rang, which Steve took as his opportunity to escape the conversation. He grabbed the candy bowl as he pulled the door open, because it was five minutes before Eli was supposed to show up, meaning it was more likely to be trick-or-treaters than Eli.

And it took a moment to recognize the boy standing on their front stoop as Eli; he was short enough that he could pass as a couple of years younger. But his costume, leather armor with a lot of belts and straps, made him look older, serious, although his grin when he saw Steve sort of negated the 'serious'.

"Hey, Steve! You ready to go?"

"Yeah, sure-" He paused a moment, feeling self-conscious with his dumb ears and fangs compared to Eli's lovingly crafted (and, Steve would bet, _functional_ ) armor. "You're not setting me up to look dumb, are you?"

"W - what?"

Steve waved at Eli. "Like, you've got this whole - where did you even get that?"

"I...um." Eli flushed. "Made it."

" _Yourself_? The _fuck_?"

Eli shrank down, shoulders hunching. "I know it's dumb, but-"

"What? Jeez, Pepperbuddy, I'm not making _fun_ of you. _I_ couldn't make that - what the hell are you, anyway?"

"Oh, um." Eli lifted a small stuffed animal - a black dragon - from his shoulder. "Hiccup? From-"

"That dragon movie. Right. Fucking _awesome_ job, dude."

Eli grinned, bright, sincere. "Well, you look good, too."

Steve snorted. "I got these for like ten bucks at the Halloween store."

"Well, it's - understated! Subtle. Plus, with your jersey, you've got a real 'teen wolf' thing going on."

"Hey, Steve. And - Eli Pepperjack?"

Steve rolled his eyes at Coach Lawrence's appearance. "Yeah. And we've got to go, so-"

"Ah. You alright, Eli?"

Steve bit back a snide comment, because saying what he really thought to Coach Lawrence rarely ended well. But Coach Lawrence had done almost nothing to protect Eli when Steve had been actively bullying him; acting like he cared now, when they were actually friends, was a waste of time.

But Eli just nodded. "Yeah, but Steve's right, we've got to go."

"Well, have fun."

"Oh, thanks!"

Eli's mom's van was outside; he waved Steve at the passenger side while he clambered into the driver's seat. Eli waited for Steve to buckle his seat belt before glancing over. "So, um. Coach Lawrence?"

"Okay." Steve took a deep breath. "You cannot tell _anyone_ , Pepperjack, okay? Or-" He cast about for a threat he might seriously be able to enact (his natural instinct wouldn't work; not only was Steve _done_ with unwarranted beatings, he wasn't certain he _could_ beat up Eli anymore).

"What? Hey, no! I'd never betray a friend's trust!" Eli put his fucking hand on his chest, which was what sold Steve on his sincerity (he ignored the flare of warmth at Eli's quick insistence).

"Well, he and my mom are dating. So he's always hanging around, poking around my business, shit like that."

"Huh." Eli started the van and, taking a moment to check each of his mirrors, like he'd memorized the driver's manual (he probably had), backed out. He didn't offer further comment, which was a relief. Steve didn't need anyone else trying to pick apart his feelings about Coach Lawrence.

"So...where are we going? Obviously not to Susan Letta's. Is there some horror movie thing? A nerd party?" He paused. "We aren't going to Trollmarket, are we?"

"Nope." Eli shook his head. "It's a surprise."

" _Still_? Come on, don't hold out on me here."

Eli grinned, gently, and shook his head again. Steve huffed and fell back against the seat rather than press further.

"I grabbed snacks," Steve offered.

"I said I'd get them!" Eli protested.

"Yeah, but _I_ got my mom's vinegar chips," Steve replied.

"Wha - _really_?" Eli's hands twitched on the wheel, sending them in a brief swerve that luckily did not end with them barrelling into a mailbox. He was grinning again, because Eli basically had no chill, but it was alright, because Steve had brought the chips for that exact reason. Not the nearly crashing into city property part, but seeing Eli happy at something Steve had done; that didn't happen often with _anyone_ , much less someone who six months ago had probably considered Steve his worst enemy.

"Keep your fucking eyes on the road, or we're gonna die before you get any."

Eli snorted, but he was still smiling. It was hard, sometimes, knowing where the line was, when dealing with Eli, who _was_ sensitive ( _not_ weak - that was more than clear now). He was getting better, though, and it...seemed worth it.

"So...where are we going?"

Eli shook his head. "I _said_ it's a secret."

"Yeah, well, I always hunt down my Christmas presents by like December 3rd. Where are we going?"

Eli chuckled. "You can wait...five minutes." He turned onto the bridge over Trollmarket, though passed over the entrance without slowing, taking them out of town before he began following the town's perimeter. Steve watched as the trees at the edge of the road flashed by, trying to predict their destination by their path. But it wasn't a path he was used to, so he had no clue, until Eli slowed, headlights passing across a low metal gate, iron bars twisted into something like branching vines.

"The cemetery?"

"Yeah!" Eli twisted around, all but bouncing in place as he grinned toothily at Steve, eyes bright, wide. After a moment without a response, though, he faltered, losing some of his animation as he sat back. "Unless you're - I mean, you don't like it here."

"No, it's cool. Seems a little hardcore for a little nerd boy, but you're not _just_ a little nerd boy."

Eli flushed a little and ducked his head. "I don't like, come out here to raise the dead or anything. It's just - peaceful, you know."

"It's Halloween, Pepperbuddy - not gonna be peaceful tonight."

"Nah," Eli replied. "We aren't really a 'goth' town; kids don't come out here to pester the dead. Now come on, this'll be easier with someone to help boost me over the wall."

It was strange, Steve mused as he held Eli's backpack while giving him a platform to use to _break into a graveyard_. He'd always assumed Eli was your normal, boring, rule-following nerd. The sort of person who worried if his library books were a day late. _Not_ the sort of person who spent Halloween night breaking into cemeteries to - well, he _said_ they weren't there to raise the dead. Still, Eli looked natural, happy, as Steve tossed his backpack up to him and he dropped down to the far side of the wall. He laughed when Steve joined him, shoved his backpack at Steve and turned down a line of graves.

"Come _on_ ," Eli repeated.

"Are we on a schedule I don't know about?"

"We are missing out on prime chilling hours!"

It was clearly more productive to just follow Eli rather than try to figure out what he meant, so Steve shrugged and trailed after the smaller boy as he wound his way through the graves, tombs, and mausoleums (was there a difference between the last two? Steve did not know). The graves shortly became sparser, the occasional tree made an appearance, and the ground grew less well-tended. Eli pointed to the side, where the ground rose gently into a narrow hill. A trio of trees twisted out of the top of the hill, forming a hollow that Eli dropped down into when they reached the top.

He looked up at Steve expectantly; there was room, though it would have been a tight fit if they were both Steve's size, so Steve joined him. It wasn't padded or particularly comfortable, but it gave them a good view of the cemetery spread below them, and past it the stars bright above the town.

Eli grabbed his backpack and pulled out a small pack of cherry cola, a bag of pretzel sticks, brownies in plastic wrapped that were slightly squashed and probably homemade, a bag that smelled like it contained tacos, and a small bag of carrots.

"Planned a whole night out, Pepperjack?"

Eli shrugged. "I mean, we don't-"

" _Chill_ ," Steve said, leaning back against the tree. He grabbed the back of Eli's shirt and tugged him back. "We're out here to have fun, right? So we hang until it isn't fun anymore. So how about you grab me a soda and one of those tacos?"

"Yeah, s - sure!"

They settled for a quiet few minutes while they ate, Steve downing his first can of soda just to offset the heat of the tacos. And then he settled back with his second can, gaze drifting to Eli, who gleefully dug into the vinegar chips once he was done with _his_ tacos.

"So, what's the deal with this place?"

Eli shrugged, taking a sip at his soda. He was a little stiff, staring at the stars, but didn't _look_ upset. "It's quiet, usually. Secluded. A good place to get away from thug jocks - um."

"So what, you look at the stars?" It was good sometimes to just ignore Eli's little flusters, let him realize nothing terrible was going to happen just for saying something dumb.

"I read, usually. When it isn't dark."

"That where you learn about trolls and shit?"

Eli shook his head. "I used to read all about - legends. Myths. Stuff like that. Like about the Moon King."

"The Moon - isn't that the dude who plucks out kids' eyes?"

"I mean, sure, but that's not what the story's really about. It's about this old dude who's jaded and cynical and wants to force kids to see the world the same way."

"But...do you think he exists?"

There was quiet a moment, and then Eli gave a surprised huff. "I never really thought about that. I guess if trolls and goblins exist, the Moon King could, too." He settled back, the exchange apparently relaxing him enough to forget about keeping his distance. "But the Moon King's grandson turned him human, made him see that the world wasn't so bad. So he'd be dead by now."

"Then how about…" Steve reached into his vague memory of fairy tales. "Fuck. I don't know."

"No, it's a valid question. If Merlin exists, why not Gilgamesh? Or - Rama?"

"Who?"

Eli leapt to his feet and began walking in a tight circle in front of Steve, hands flailing. "It's an _important_ question. Where do unicorns fit in this? Jim fought Fenrir, so does that mean Odin is real? What does it mean that gods exist? What does that even mean, being a 'god'?"

"It means sit down," Steve said, swiping at Eli as he passed, but missing. "Come on."

Eli paused; he seemed to be startled to realize Steve was there. He dropped down next to Steve, ducking his head.

"Sorry. I get carried away sometimes."

"I _know_ , dude. Just...we can relax tonight. Get high, debate the meaning of life."

"Um. Steve, I don't-"

Steve laughed. " _Dude_. It's just an expression. Come on, we can spitball, brainstorm, just talk shit out. You can go to the library _tomorrow_."

"I can stop if you want," Eli said, voice quiet.

"I didn't say _that_ ; I just said, you dragged me out here to hang, so let's hang. Talk your little heart out about unicorns or dragons or shit-"

" _Dragons_ aren't real, at least."

"Then what the hell are dragon scales?"

"A sort of opal, I think."

"Huh." The potential existence of dragons had weighed on Steve's mind, a little, after his experience with the stalkling. "So you think the Moon King's real?"

"If he is, that means there's a magical shamisen floating around somewhere we should get our hands on."

"A-"

"Japanese guitar. Sort of."

"Fuck." Steve let the quiet stretch out for a few moments. "You're thinking how you're going to research all this shit, aren't you?"

"...Sort of."

Steve laughed. "So come on, talk it out. Have a brownie."

"Aren't you...bored?" Eli asked, quiet.

"If I got bored listening to you ramble about weird supernatural crap, I'd have bailed _before_ the Halloween playdate. Look, I used to think you were a rambling nerd. I _still_ think you're a rambling nerd, but. Well. You _care_ about this shit, and that's pretty cool. So do whatever. I'll try to keep up."

"Oh." Eli was quiet a moment before grabbing up the brownies and handing one back to Steve. He settled next to Steve, a little more relaxed, no longer fighting to keep himself apart. "Well, _obviously_ , we're going to need to check Blinky's - Dictatious' - library, to see what the _trolls_ think. But there's a couple guys I know on the internet who do a lot of monster-spotting, and one of them's interested in the mythical figures - seasonal avatars, subjects of legends, things like that."

It wasn't the most exciting Halloween of Steve's life; he didn't even get ten pounds of candy out of it. But sitting in that little corner of the cemetery, listening to Eli jump from one idea to the next, was a different kind of excitement. A more peaceful one, certainly, something that had been harder to come by, lately. So Steve resolved to enjoy it while it lasted.

\---

Mary paused when the knock came. It wasn't the front door, which she'd gotten used to anticipating. She waited, quiet, until it came again, and she could identify the source as the kitchen window. She grabbed a spatula and edged closer to the window.

Two baleful yellow eyes pressed up against it. Because Mary was a level-headed woman who had grown used to the existence of trolls, she didn't scream, though she did jump a little, before recognizing the owner of the eyes.

She yanked the window open. "Rico? What are you doing here?"

The changeling (was he still a changeling if he couldn't change shape anymore?) hopped inside, dropping off the counter as quickly as he was on it. He had apparently managed a complete transformation of his wardrobe, as one leg of his denim pants was torn at the knee, and the hem of the other was frayed. The sleeves of his Papa Skulls T-shirt were ripped off. Mary wasn't certain yet if Rico were making a statement or was just naturally hard on his clothes, but it was undeniable his look was very punk.

"We got a problem," Rico said, settling a little forward on his arms, scowling a little.

"O...kay. Shouldn't you go to Claire with this?"

Rico shook his head.

"Why not?"

Rico opened his mouth, but snapped it closed before he responded, shaking his head.

Mary opened her mouth to ask what the _hell_ was going on, but paused, shut it, and thought for a second. Rico had _meant_ to say something, but hadn't. Which probably meant he _couldn't_ , and that there was a good chance the problem was a problem with _Claire_.

"So," she asked, grabbing a bowl to fill with chips, "have you been getting sick of all the supernatural problems we keep having to deal with? Like, completely new shit every week?"

She kept an eye on Rico as she sorted through the bags of chips; he was scowling, before his eyes widened suddenly. "Yeah, getting real tired of that."

Mary had been pretty sure, but she'd needed to _know_ it was some magic crap. It made things easier in some ways, and harder in others.

...There were a _lot_ more options, for one.

"Anyway, you've gotta clear out soon - we've got our girls' night Halloween movie marathon later. I got like _all_ the horror movies. Classics like 'The Birds'..." She paused, watching Rico, until he shook his head. "'The Shining', 'Omen', 'Children of the Corn', 'Scream', 'The Thing'-" Rico paused, tapping at his chin thoughtfully, before shaking his head.

"...You ever seen 'The Exorcist'?"

"Yeah, once or twice. Freaked me the fuck out."

...Well, _fuck_.

"Probably isn't as easy to exorcise a possessed person as it is in the movies, though, right?"

Rico snorted. "You got _that_ right."

"Well, it was nice to see you, but you've gotta scram. Boy trolls are _not_ invited to girls' night."

But she gave Rico a wink, making sure he knew she'd _gotten_ the message. And then she went upstairs to see if the internet had any insight about de-possessing your best friend.

\---

Mary opened the front door one second before Claire could knock on it. Claire was dressed in sweatpants and a loose hoodie in purple and grey, by all appearances ready for an amazing Halloween sleepover. The dark patches under her eyes, though, suggested she was ready for bed.

"Heyyy, Claire-bear."

Claire smiled weakly. "Hi." Claire stepped forward and hugged Mary; her grip was strong, a little tight, but her smile was a little more certain when she pulled away.

"You ready for a real party?" Mary asked.

"It's you, me, and Darci," Claire retorted. "Hardly the rager of the decade."

"Yeah, but this shindig's got one thing Susan Letta's Halloween party doesn't have." At Claire's inquisitive raised eyebrow, Mary grinned. " _Us_."

"Alright, fair enough. Where's Darci?"

"In the living room; I got a whole bunch of scary movies and ten pounds of kettle corn." Claire didn't look enthused, which was okay. Mary had gotten the kettle corn for herself, and the scary movies for Darci. The _company_ was for Claire, who had spent months alone in Hell with only a boy to talk to (who had apparently spent a good portion of that time talking to someone in his _head_ , which had to be demoralizing). So Mary shoved Claire onto the couch next to Darci before taking her customary seat in the armchair next to it and commandeering the kettle corn.

"Sooo...what're we watching?" Claire asked.

"I wanted to start with 'The Omen'," Darci said.

"Sure, go ahead." Claire shifted a little, using the arm of the couch as a pillow. "Building up to the really big scares?"

"Yeah." Darci pulled up the movie and started it, and Mary turned so she could keep an eye on the screen and Claire at the same time. Because Claire thought 'The Omen' was the most boring movie _ever made_ , so she spent the first half hour blinking slowly as she tried to focus, and the next fifteen minutes slowly drifting off to sleep.

Mary gave it another few minutes before flashing Darci a thumbs-up. Darci, for her part, leaned close, listening to Claire's breathing, and nodded.

They went to work quickly, but quietly, careful to keep from waking Claire. Mary had left most of her supplies in the basement, because she did not know what the fallout of this was going to be, and there were fewer valuables down there. Darci was in charge of tying Claire down while Mary threw down the salt circle, set up the incense, and other various supplies apparently vital to a good exorcism.

Mary stepped back, outside of the circle, while Darci nudged Claire awake.

"Heyyyyy, Claire-Bear. You up?"

"Yea, what...what's going on?" Claire glanced around, twisting around, eyes widening when she noticed the bonds holding her to the kitchen chair. "Darci? Mary? Why am I tied down?"

"To keep you from getting free, obviously," Mary replied. She lit the incense, filling the basement with the scent of sage. "Now, this is going to be a little haphazard - we can't do a Catholic exorcism, for obvious reasons, so I've sort of kludged together a bunch of crap off the internet."

"Exor - what do you mean, exorcism?"

"Removal of a possessing force from their host body," Darci said. "Hi, dark possessing spirit!" She waved at Claire.

"I'm not _possessed_ ," Claire snapped, twisting against her bonds. She glared at Darci when the knots refused to yield. "Did you use the _serious_ knots on me?"

"The point is to keep you from getting free," Darci replied, "so _yes_."

Mary got on with mixing the oils; they were apparently best when freshly-combined, and needed to be passed through the sage smoke anyway, letting Claire and Darci argue in the background.

"What would even make you think I'm possessed, anyway?"

"Well, I wasn't sure when Mary told me, but you've been tired and distracted lately, acting jumpy, spacing out, all clear signs of a drug addiction or a secret life taking its toll on you. And since the 'being involved in the politics of the magical world' part of your life is no longer secret, the only thing left is 'being enlisted into the forces of darkness' or the addiction thing, so if it's the addiction thing, you can consider this your intervention."

Claire groaned and struggled a moment more. "Come _on_ , this is ridiculous. _Mary_? Tell Darci this is like a joke or something."

"I wish it was. But when it comes to your welfare, I trust Rico not to make jokes."

"Rico?" Claire's eyes changed, shifting from brown to verdant green. "How the _hell_ did that spineless whelp tell you _anything_?" She froze, holding still for a moment before giving Darci and Mary a too-wide grin. "I mean-"

"No, I appreciate your candor." Mary put the incense down, propped up in the piles of salt set along the edge of the salt circle. "I mean, none of this is exactly going to _hurt_ , but I was gonna feel bad screaming at Claire to get out of her own body."

Claire - or whoever - chuckled throatily. "Do you honestly believe the ramblings of children fumbling at the edge of the ocean of arcane knowledge can contend with _me_?"

"Um." Darci took a careful step back, glancing at the perimeter of the circle behind her.

"I don't know about 'ramblings', but I have written enough last-minute essays to know how to sort out all the bullshit on the Internet."

"The _Internet_?" Claire demanded. "You would face the greatest sorceress of this age armed only with the lies and worthless scraps collected on the _web_?"

Mary hadn't concerned herself with the identity of Claire's possessor; _removing_ them had been the primary goal of her last-minute research. That phrase, though - 'greatest sorceress of this age' - allowed for few options, and given their recent history, only one likely one.

...They weren't going to get out of this relying on the shit she'd got off Eli's paranormal forums.

"Well, then let's try it - your power versus my internet know-how." Darci, bless her, was taking advantage of Claire's (not Claire's, but Mary wasn't going to even think it until she was certain) distraction to get out of the salt circle.

Not-Claire laughed. "Test my power against your circle of salt? I'm no demon, child!" Shadows flared around her eyes-

Then died.

" _What_?" Claire writhed against her bonds, snarling. "What did you _do_?"

"You're right I didn't know if you were a demon or what," Mary replied, shrugging casually. "So I looked at _everything_ that might help. One of those was a page out of Homer's book - little thing called moly. It was good enough to hold Circe, so I thought it'd be enough to hold _you_ , Morgana."

"Moly-" Claire looked down at her arms and legs, where snowdrops were woven in with the ropes, and smiled. "Clever child. But no matter how well you hold me, it will do nothing to hold your friend. She gave herself over to me to escape the Darklands, for the strength to wield the power she needed to cross the Shadow Realm."

"Was this a 'Terms and Conditions' deal? Because that sort of thing isn't binding without explicit consent."

"Oh, child," Morgana drawled, "don't you know? Possession is nine-tenths of the law."

"...Oh lord," Darci muttered.

"Oh, sure, you pulled a fast one, got control of Claire's body, but how long do you think you can hang on? Claire's a fighter."

"Oh certainly. But I don't need to 'hang on' for long. Just here and there, when I need a body. It's a tricky business, possession, even for _me_."

Mary felt a grin tug at her lips. There was nothing better than someone who thought they were better than you - they loved reminding you _how_ much better they were, which meant they never shut up. And so far, she'd learned a _lot_. Morgana _couldn't_ ride that body for long, which suggested she couldn't risk losing a battle of wills against Claire - Mary would bet it'd kick her out for good, or at least until Claire did something that let her back in.

"So, what, is Claire in there somewhere?" Darci asked. "Claire! Don't worry! This is Darci! We're going to get you out of there!" She paused. "Get _Morgana_ out of there!"

"Oh, stop it!" Morgana snapped. "You aren't going to _reach_ her or whatever you're doing. I'm _in control_ , and will be until I decide to relinquish it."

Oh, that was _clearly_ a lie - that was the voice of someone who couldn't afford to waste time. But a puzzling one - Morgana had, if she weren't lying, been popping in and out of control for the two months Claire'd been back. What was so different about now?

"You talk big for a lady who's fucked up by a little flower."

Morgana snarled at Darci, which was _not_ an attractive look on Claire's face, but Mary didn't have a lot of time to consider that, because of the _flower_. She didn't know _what_ moly did, exactly, to sorceresses, except it had bound Circe. And she had an inkling what 'binding' had done to Morgana - left her unable to use her powers through Claire, unable to let go.

...She needed them to give up before Claire could claw her way back into her own mind.

"No, I get it," Mary said. "You're afraid. You can't get out of there on your own. You don't know how long we're willing to keep Claire tied up here."

"I am not _afraid_! I am not _weak_!" Morgana clenched Claire's hands, the firsts turning white with the force of the grip. "My power waxes with each passing day."

"But _now_ , you're _weak_ ," Mary whispered. "A little girl playing at being a witch."

Flames danced in Claire's eyes. "I am a sorceress - a power akin to a _god_!"

"A god who can't beat a _flower_? Are you telling me you're no better than _Baldur_?"

" _ **No**_! No flower can hold me! _No_ prison can hold me!" She strained against the ropes holding her, screaming wordlessly.

And then, quite suddenly, she was silent, slumping down in the chair, arms hanging loosely against the bonds. Mary held her breath, hoping. That Morgana hadn't remembered how important it was that she remain focused on keeping control of Claire, that instead…

"Okay, I get it; 'The Omen' is a cinematic masterpiece and if I fall asleep during it again I'll wake up at the bottom of the bay. Can you two untie me now? And get me a drink? I think I swallowed a bug."

"Claire!" Darci slammed into Claire, holding her in a crushing embrace. "We were so _worried_!"

"Worried about _what_? Is this about my cold? I think it's getting better."

Mary laughed and joined in on the hug. "We're just glad to see you, Claire-Bear."

"That's great, but my wrists are really chafing." Claire sneezed. "And I think I'm allergic to whatever these flowers are."

\---

Ever since the Order of Dawn had used the Gyre to stage a pincer assault on Trollmarket, Draal had organized a regular watch on it. It was a struggle to keep the watch rotation scheduled, but it was worth it, for the added sense of security.

Still, it meant much of Draal's time was taken at his post at the Gyre, covering shifts he couldn't otherwise fill.

He'd met knights who thought watch was boring - the sort who would doze or find ways to pass the time, losing the focus that was needed to keep others safe. And of course it was boring - unless it wasn't. But Draal had found satisfaction in watchfulness; each moment was a reminder of his duty, of those he had vowed to protect.

And each quiet, boring moment was one that validated his watchfulness.

When a Gyre slammed into place with a discharge of electricity, Draal did not bolt to attention; he was already paying attention. But it was a change in the stillness of the portal between troll communities. And as the rings slowed their circuits, Draal saw within them lights like stars, which resolved into bright, glowing lines set within rocky skin.

Krubera.

And among them the sparkling form of Queen Usurna. Draal didn't relax, exactly. But the Krubera were unlikely to be here to destroy Trollmarket, so there was no need to ready for battle.

He did, however, approach the queen as she stepped from the Gyre, offering her a bow, as her position warranted.

"Your Majesty. May I ask what brings you to Heartstone Trollmarket?"

"Yes, actually." Queen Usurna looked up at Draal, offering him a gentle smile. "You are an Eclipse Knight, Draal, and so bound to enforce our laws."

"Of course, Your Majesty."

"Good. Then you will help me arrest Dictatious Galadrigal for providing aid and comfort to Gunmar and his army, so he may face justice for his crimes."


	12. Law and Disorder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trial, conviction, and sentencing of Dictatious Galadrigal.

**The Present, in a Galaxy Much Closer**

A heavy hand dropped on Blinky's shoulder, halting his pacing.

"Don't worry," Aaarrrgghh said. "You can do this."

Blinky sighed and leaned into the touch; Aaarrrgghh tugged him back to allow Blinky to lean against Aaarrrgghh's bulk, a steadying presence that Blinky sorely needed. The convocation had taken some time to gather; the law required the tribal chiefs thirteen hours to respond. Only Gatto had arrived so far, giving the convocation a worryingly hostile makeup. Usurna, of course, had made up her mind already - she would not have come if her vision had not revealed to her some favorable outcome. Gatto was a hanging judge, from the other convocations whose histories Blinky had reviewed so far. And that was enough to convict, even if they could win over Vendel.

Blinky so wanted to press, to ask Aaarrrgghh how certain he was Blinky could handle it. But he couldn't bring himself to do so, to risk hearing an answer that meant-

He would lose his brother again.

The enveloping press of Aaarrrgghh's arms did little to dispel Blinky's fear, but if his world was going to fall apart, at least it could happen when he was somewhere warm and safe.

"Blinky!"

"Mulder," Aaarrrgghh rumbled, which was enough for Blinky to twist around in Aaarrrgghh's grip, though he did not try to escape the embrace. Indeed, Eli had arrived at the library, several of his other friends trailing behind him.

"Blinky! I have not had a lot of time to look into this, but I am ready to do whatever you need to help."

"I really hope what you need is in one of these books," the blond boy behind him grumbled (Blinky was in no mood to try and remember that boy's name, Eli's friend or not), shifting the bag on his back. "Because if you made me drag all these down here for nothing-"

"Steve," Eli said gently. "Blinky?"

"Unfortunately, there is little assistance you can offer during the trial itself - only I, as Dictatious' kinsmen, may speak on his behalf. Of course, any insight you may have into this _farce_ would be appreciated." He flicked his gaze across the other assembled humans - Jim, of course, the first to help if he could manage it. Toby, however, was notably absent; Blinky felt a twitch of something - he hated to think of himself as angry with Toby, who was a good friend to Aaarrrgghh, so thought it might be disappointment. He knew no one, not even Aaarrrgghh, really trusted Dictatious, but had hoped they would care enough to support Blinky, at least.

"Well, Toby's trying to argue his way into the jury, so we can at least help a _little_ during the trial," Jim said.

Blinky's heart skipped a beat. "I'm not certain I heard you correctly, Jim. You said-"

"He's trying the 'reincarnated troll king' play again," Jim replied. "We figured you needed at least one friend on the jury."

"Yes, but - I was of the impression none of you trusted Dictatious."

The collective glance between the humans was telling. It was Jim who responded, stepping up to Blinky and resting a hand on his exposed shoulder. "None of us...do, really. But we're here to support _you_ , Blinky. And besides, we brought Dictatious back to give him a _chance_ , not immediately throw him - what _does_ happen if they find him guilty?"

"Send Dictatious to the Deep," Aaarrrgghh replied.

"That...doesn't sound like a slap on the wrist," Steve said.

"Not," Aaarrrgghh said; Blinky tucked his face against Aaarrrgghh's arms, relying on that strength to hold off imagining what Aaarrrgghh was about to explain. "Place without light. Without hope. Go there when lost - beyond hope. No troll return from the Deep."

"Okay, Steve and I will brainstorm weaker sentences we can advocate," Eli said. "Jim-"

"I'll stay with Blinky." Jim gave Blinky a weak smile before sitting next to him. Aaarrrgghh rumbled approvingly and sat next to Jim, firmly pulling Blinky onto his lap. Blinky grabbed ahold of Aaarrrgghh's hand and held it against his chest; he wasn't letting go of that point of stability until this was all over.

Jim, happily, didn't seem to want to talk about it. Blinky had spent eight of the last twelve hours researching, and two precious hours trying to get answers out of Dictatious, so he was glad for the silence. He probably should have gotten more than two hours of sleep; it left him certain part of his desire to just sleep in Aaarrrgghh's arms until the whole thing was over was exhaustion. Of course part of it was that he couldn't bear facing down the Convocation and the possibility of _failing_ his big brother.

"Jim okay?" Aaarrrgghh asked.

"Yes. No. I don't know." Jim leaned back against Aaarrrgghh's legs. "I want to believe this'll be okay, that Dictatious is on _our_ side and the Convocation will see that. But a part of me is afraid...I was wrong to trust him."

Blinky closed his eyes and turned away from Jim. How could he explain what it was to find something you'd lost centuries before? How desperately he wanted this to be real, to be a second chance, enough to ignore his brother's acquired idiosyncrasies, the whispers of others who thought Dictatious was part of a sinister plot to destroy Trollmarket.

"Faith hard. Blinky love Dictatious, want what he lost. Blinky good at faith - believed in me, even if scared he was wrong." Aaarrrgghh squeezed Blinky a little tighter. "Lots of good from that."

"And what if he was wrong?" Jim asked, voice smaller, quieter than Blinky was used to.

Aaarrrgghh sighed. "Then would have rampaged through Trollmarket. Death. Destruction. Maybe Blinky die. Selfish, but glad Blinky take risk."

Jim huffed. "I am, too. I...thanks, Aaarrrgghh."

"No problem."

"Blinkous?"

_That_ voice commanded attention; Blinky looked up to find Vendel standing at the entrance to the library, looking grim.

"We are ready to begin."

Blinky took a deep breath and disentangled himself from Aaarrrgghh's arms. Once on the ground, he fumbled for the notes he'd gathered, but found the papers slipping from shaky fingers. Aaarrrgghh swept them up, patted Blinky's head, and, hand against his back, helped guide him out of the library. The streets were mostly deserted, at least until they approached the stairs to the Heroes' Forge, finding small groups of trolls flowing toward the arena.

This wasn't just a trial, it was a _show_. Blinky wrapped his arms around himself, wishing he could ask for Aaarrrgghh to hold him through the trial without looking like a whelp who couldn't face an adult responsibility by himself.

Instead, when they reached the edge of the arena, he took his papers from Aaarrrgghh, accepted a brief hug, and let Aaarrrgghh leave him to take a seat in the lower stands with Jim and Steve. Eli was there with a scrap of paper Blinky refused to look at because it would be necessary only if he failed.

So prepared, Blinky looked up at the jury. Usurna, Gatto's avatar, Vendel...and Toby. Blinky still wasn't certain whether the claim Toby was the reincarnation of the Shattered King was true or a convenient fiction they had used to prop up the current chieftain, but any friendly face on Dictatious' jury was welcome.

And speaking of Dictatious…

Dictatious entered the Forge trailed by Draal; Dictatious' hands were unbound, Draal presumably confident he could overpower Dictatious should he try to escape. But there was no question, as Draal guided Dictatious to the space below the jury's seats, that he was here to be judged.

Usurna rose and brought her hands up. The assembled trolls fell silent.

"My friends and subjects! Today we are gathered to sit in judgment of Dictatious Galadrigal. This troll was once a respected scholar, believed killed in the First Battle of the Killahead Bridge. But James Lake Jr. discovered Dictatious had not perished, but instead was banished to the Darklands with Gunmar and his army. We intend to show that this troll is a Gumm Gumm - a willing servant of Gunmar, intent on returning his master to this world. A treacherous and duplicitous creature-"

"Objection!" Blinky shouted.

"Objection?" Usurna demanded, eyes darkening as she turned them on Blinky. He flinched back; he had long learned to ignore Vendel's expressions of disdain, but the Krubera queen was used to unquestioned obedience, and that demand was in her glare.

"He's got a point - you sitting up here calling Dictatious names seems a little unfair."

Usurna bared her fangs at the back of Toby's head, but fell back, crossing her arms. "Very well. The charges have been levied. How does Dictatious Galadrigal plead?"

Blinky glanced at his brother; he'd gotten few straight answers out of Dictatious regarding his time in the Darklands, but was certain of one thing - Dictatious was _not_ a Gumm Gumm. "Not guilty, Your Majesty."

"Hmph. We will see what you believe once we have finished questioning, young Galadrigal." She hefted a rock, reminding Blinky of a particularly unpleasant aspect of troll law.

"Whoa, hey!" Toby grabbed at Usurna's arm; the struggle was brief, ending when the Krubera found the stone too heavy to hold up and dropped it. "What are you _doing_?"

"We question the accused by throwing rocks at him!" Gatto shouted. "Aside from the sentencing and the punishment, that is the best part of a trial."

"Look, I don't want to question your - ah, _our_ customs, but I think this might go a little smoother if the accused isn't distracted by worries of getting beaned by a stray rock." Toby gave Gatto a bright grin; the volcanic troll, as Blinky expected, glowered at the prospect of being denied an opportunity to assault a hapless troll.

" _Must_ we sit here and allow this - _half-breed_ \- to treat our ancient customs like some sort of _joke_?" Usurna demanded. She produced another rock, which, after another brief struggle, dropped to the ground. She glared at Toby.

"Perhaps it would be best to allow the esteemed leader of the Quagawumps this small concession, in the interests of expediency. While the throwing of rocks is an ancient custom, it is not...strictly necessary to the process." Vendel did not wince when Usurna turned that glare on him; presumably, as her peer, he wasn't afraid of her ire.

"Very well." She stepped forward. " _I_ , though, will claim the right of the first questions. You dwelled in the Darklands for some four hundred and fifty years, Dictatious. That realm is ruled, unchallenged, by Gunmar. How could you survive so long if you are not of his armies?"

"Dictatious _feigned_ allegiance to Gunmar so that he would not be imprisoned or slain. I would posit there is no troll who would not do the same in that position."

"Would _you_ pledge allegiance to Gunmar the Black?" Usurna demanded, "if it would preserve your life? Stand aside as he slew your companions?"

"N - no!" Blinky protested. "But Dictatious-"

"Two score trolls were lost at the Battle of Killahead whose bodies were never found. How many of them were banished instead and brought before Gunmar? How many did you watch die under Gunmar's blade?"

"Gunmar is not so wasteful to _kill_ the defiant," Dictatious muttered. Though quiet, his voice carried due to the acoustics of the Forge, and Blinky saw the look of horror on trolls' faces as they heard.

Usurna's glare shifted to a triumphant smile. "Yes. The Decimaar Blade. Capable of stealing the will of any creature. As you said, the means by which Gunmar compels the obedience of those he does not see as sufficiently loyal. How is it you retained his confidence for over four centuries?"

"I-" Blinky looked to Dictatious, who was watching Usurna through narrow eyes. These were among the subjects Dictatious had refused to discuss when Blinky had interrogated him. Obviously Dictatious' time in the Darklands was painful, but without an appropriate defense against Usurna's implications, he'd be on a one-way trip into the Deep. "But Dictatious _fled_ the Darklands! I hold that by seeking to _escape_ Gunmar's control, he has shown contrition worthy of redemption…" He paused, uncertain if he wanted to press forward; he _had_ a good point, but it felt uncomfortably close to criticizing Aaarrrgghh.

"Your own kinsman was general of Gunmar's armies!" Gatto bellowed. "Shall we question _him_ , as well?"

"No," Usurna replied, grin giving way to a flat, professional expression.

"But if we're talking _precedent_ ," Toby interjected, "Aaarrrgghh is a perfect example. He was _raised_ by the Gumm Gumms; Gunmar might as well be his _dad_. So we should take him as an example that a former Gumm Gumm _can_ reform themselves."

"True, but Aaarrrgghh has relentlessly devoted himself to the welfare of Heartstone Trollmarket and the people therein. Your brother, Blinkous-"

"Dictatious has brought us valuable intelligence regarding Gunmar; he has been directing our research in how Gunmar may finally be defeated. Just because he is not as...physically gifted as...um. Aaarrrgghh-"

Dictatious snickered; Blinky shot him a glare in the hopes of communicating the importance of a sober demeanor, but his brother just smirked at him.

"Regardless! He is contributing to the defense of our people, and our human allies!" Toby gave Blinky a thumbs-up, and Gatto's scowl lessened. Blinky felt a spark of hope.

"Raughos' prophecy is no secret," Usurna snapped. "And anyone may turn pages and say a mystery cannot be solved. The Galadrigals have always been a canny people; I should not be surprised if this were in fact a plot to lure us into a false sense of security."

"Lure - this is base slander!"

"It is an accusation, and one founded by concern for the well-being of our people. What evidence can you offer that your brother is truly reformed?"

The demand overwhelmed Blinky for a moment, his mind blanking. To prove Dictatious _wasn't_ a Gumm Gumm?

"Come on, Usurna, this is ridiculous. He can't prove his brother _isn't_ secretly scheming against us. How about you tell us what makes you think he _is_?"

Usurna's eyes gleamed ruby red as her smirk reappeared. "In aiding in the Trollhunter's return, Dictatious Galadrigal did encourage one of his allies to draw on the _heart_ of the Skathe-Hrün. That artifact was cast into Gatto's Keep because it is woven of the Pale Lady's power...and her will. Who else but Gunmar's servant would seek to spread her influence in such a way?"

Blinky's heart stuttered; he saw Eli lean in, hissing something to Jim, and heard the muttering of the assembled trolls. On hearing how Jim and Claire had escaped the Darklands, he _had_ been concerned about the risks to her spirit. But to blame Dictatious, when he had helped the _Trollhunter_ escape Gunmar, was just - malicious. He'd expected Usurna to be ruthless, but it was like arguing with a tarrasque - no matter how cogent your position, a thousand-ton beast was still charging at you.

But then he looked down, away from Usurna's fierce gaze, and saw Dictatious standing next to him, peaceful, unafraid. 

_Dictatious believed in him_.

Holding his papers tight to his chest, Blinky stepped forward. "But at the same time he rescued the Trollhunter, one of Gunmar's sworn enemies - his son's _killer_!"

"Blinkous _does_ make a fair point, Your Majesty," Vendel offered. "Gunmar is not known for his patience."

"But on the advice of a trusted advisor, I should think he might be persuaded otherwise."

"Whoa, okay! Speculating back and forth at each other isn't gonna get us anywhere." Toby stepped up between Vendel and Usurna, hands up. "I vote we take a - half hour recess and try to coordinate the rest of this trial, alright?"

Usurna's glare was brief and fierce, but she stepped back with a shrug. "Another thirty minutes will make no difference. But yes, let us recess." She spun about and stormed from her place.

Blinky watched the other chieftains leave, feeling empty; even Toby's encouraging wave failed to give him any hope.

\---

"Come on, Vendel, you don't _agree_ with her, do you?"

Vendel was settled in the chair behind his desk, hands pressed together in front of his face as he regarded Toby. He shook his head after a moment. "Of course not. But I am...unique among the chieftains of trollkind in that I do not hold my position through birthright. I must maintain, if not consensus, at least confidence in my decisions." He took his staff and used it to rise, turning to face the crystals of the Heartstone. "I am guardian of one of the most vibrant remaining Heartstones, and that is a sacred trust. If my people have no faith in me…"

"So you'll listen to Usurna's wild accusations about a guy who's had a bad time of it - _Blinky's brother_ \- just to avoid a little doubt? What if someone had insisted you throw out Aaarrrgghh?"

Vendel bent his head, leaning more heavily on his staff. "Your words are not without merit, Tobias. In truth, I feel this convocation is a rush to judgment. Though he was not trusted, we allowed Aaarrrgghh some time - years - to prove himself."

"So you agree!" Toby hadn't been certain, when Jim had suggested he force his way onto the jury, if he could do any good. But first he'd kept them from throwing rocks at Dictatious, and then he'd kept making points, and now he'd tied up the vote! It gave him hope they might have a chance at winning this.

...Wait.

"What happens if it's a tie?"

"As the one bringing the charges, Usurna must gain a majority to convict. So a block of two of us may spare Dictatious."

"And Usurna can't just turn around and do another trial, can she?"

Vendel shook his head. "Another of our number would have to bring that charge, and I was against this rigamarole from the start."

"So...all I gotta do is convince Gatto not to do that?"

"It should not be hard - Gatto may enjoy judging others, but he does not possess a great deal of initiative."

Toby hopped up from his seat, suddenly energized. "I'll go talk to him now." He paused and darted back in to hug Vendel. The troll made a startled noise before awkwardly patting Toby's back. "Thanks."

"You are a fine...troll, Tobias," Vendel replied. The compliment left a comfortable warmth in Toby's chest as he left to find Gatto, passing Usurna and one of her omnipresent bodyguards. He stuck his tongue out at the back of her head, hoping Vendel gave her a talking-to when she tried to convince _him_. Gatto was hovering near the entrance to the jury box, turning to scowl at Toby when he arrived.

"Troll-human," Gatto growled. "If you are here to attempt to convince me to spare the Galadrigal, you are wasting your time."

"I get that - you're a decisive troll. So I bet you know what you'll do if things don't go your way out there."

Gatto raised a rocky eyebrow. "Worried? I am not a _vengeful_ troll, troll-human. I can afford to wait...and wait...and wait. I will outlive Dictatious whether he is condemned to the Deep or not."

He fell silent; after a moment, Toby decided Gatto was done talking. "So you'll leave him alone if we don't convict?"

"If he visits Gatto's Keep, I will give him the _standard_ welcome; else, he can waste his miserable life any way he wants."

It wasn't worth a thanks, but Toby returned to the jury's stand feeling lighter than when he'd left. He waved at Blinky and gave him a thumbs up.

It was perhaps five minutes before Gatto joined Toby, and then, a moment later, Vendel and Usurna. He moved easily; perhaps the discussion had eased some of his stress.

"You good, dude?" Toby asked.

Vendel paused, gaze flickering between Toby and Usurna before giving him a wide smile. "Oh, yes. Everything is _fine_ , Tobias. Justice is done, today. Your Majesty?"

"Attention!" Usurna raised her hands, and the arena fell silent. "We now vote on the fate of Dictatious Galadrigal."

"Wait, what?" Toby turned to her. "I thought we were going to keep questioning him!"

"What is the point?" Usurna retorted. "We know what has been accomplished with his assistance. We know that he has lived centuries under Gunmar's rule - not as favored son, but an enemy seen instead as trusted ally. Gatto?"

"Clearly he is an enemy of all trollkind. _Guilty_!"

"I, of course, find myself unconvinced of his claims of innocence. _Guilty_!" She turned to Toby. "Tobias?"

" _Not_ guilty!"

"Very well." Usurna gave Toby a sharp grin and turned to Vendel. "Vendel? How do you vote?"

Vendel nodded, expression flat. "In these dark times, we cannot allow potential threats to our safety to run free. I find him _guilty_."

"What?" There was shouting down below, but Toby was occupied turning on Vendel, fury surging in his chest. "You said we were rushing to judgment! That you'd give it _time_!"

"Queen Usurna has made it abundantly clear we cannot afford such caution. Gunmar is gathering his forces, and we should seek every opportunity to disrupt his plans."

"But we can't send him to the Deep!"

"This isn't fair!"

Someone had vaulted over the divider between the stands and the arena and was stalking toward Blinky and Dictatious. And that 'someone' was a slim, dark-haired human who happened to be Toby's best friend.

"Jim, don't do anything stupid," Toby muttered under his breath.

"Fair? It is troll law that the convocation - the council sitting before you - has ultimate authority in these matters. If a majority of us agree - there is no appeal." Usurna looked down at Jim, face showing a beatific smile. "So whatever your _feelings_ , Trollhunter, this is the _law_."

"You can _change_ the law! Find another punishment!"

"And why would we do that? We have _made_ a decision."

"Send me instead."

"Jim, you _cannot_!" Blinky protested below. 

And Toby...couldn't. Because Jim was _not_ suggesting what it sounded like he was. He wouldn't do that to his mom - to _Toby_ \- again.

" _You_ are not a Gumm Gumm, Trollhunter. Angor Rot has made that clear."

"But I brought Dictatious here. If there's a Gumm Gumm in Trollmarket, it's _my_ fault."

This was _not happening_. Jim was not _volunteering_ to go to the Deep in place of Dictatious Galadrigal - who he didn't even _like_. Someone had to stop this. Someone needed to speak up.

"You understand what it means to claim _fault_ for this situation. To bringing one of our _enemies_ into our midst."

"This is a mistake, Your Majesty! Young Jim has suffered great stress from his time in the Darklands-"

" _Silence_ , Blinkous Galadrigal!" Vendel snapped. Blinky fell silent, eyes wide, shocked.

Usurna stepped to the edge of the arena, gripping the railing as she looked down at Jim. "Well, _Trollhunter_?"

" _ **Jim**_!" Toby screamed.

Jim looked up at Toby and met his eyes. Jim's gaze was wide, sad, and Toby, remembering Jim's anxiety the night before, his uncertainty at having lost one of his supports, could see there wasn't any arguing with Jim right now. Toby would just need to get him alone while they prepared the Gyre or something, try to talk some sense into him. Meanwhile, he clenched his hands at his sides and concentrated on not accidentally collapsing the ceiling on all of them.

"Trollhunter?"

"I understand," Jim replied, "And I take full responsibility."

"Good," Usurna said. "Guards? Come." Half a dozen Krubera soldiers approached Jim, two grabbing his arms.

"Wait? What's going on?"

Usurna turned to Toby, clasping a hand on his shoulder. Friendly, he supposed, to the outside, but her grip was a little tight, the weight of it heavy enough that if he _hadn't_ been training, it would be difficult to bear. "The defendant has admitted guilt. We take him now to the Deep."

" _Now_?"

"Of course! Should we allow him to wander free?" Usurna turned, guiding Toby along with the hand on his shoulder as they descended the platform to follow the guards. "No, we will see swift justice done." Toby saw Eli, Steve, Aaarrrgghh, and Blinky chasing after them.

_Jim_ was good at quick thinking. _Eli_ was good at coming up with plans. _Steve_ might even damn the consequences and try to fight everybody. Toby - was good at talking, and somehow he couldn't find words as Usurna dragged him forward to witness - what? Everyone talked about it like it was an execution, but Toby couldn't believe that's what this was. Because if they were _killing_ Jim-

Well, he'd collapse this whole fucking cave on top of the other jury members, for one.

"What's going to happen to him? Is this like, prison, some sort of rehabilitation…?"

"No troll has _ever_ returned from the Deep!" Gatto chortled.

"But it can be more correctly be thought of as a second trial - a trial of _ordeal_." Usurna patted Toby's free shoulder. "The Deep contains within it all the evils of the world. Those who enter the Deep will face these evils - most particularly those dwelling within themselves. The Deep will choke the spirit, poison the soul. By troll law, one who can survive those trials is pardoned of their crimes. But _no one_ has survived the Deep."

They arrived at a grand cavern that abutted a dark chasm. A cage attached to a metal arm like a crane sat in the room's center. The guards pushed Jim along toward the cage.

"Wait!"

Usurna raised a hand, halting the guards, as she looked down at Toby. "Yes, Tobias?"

"He should have an opportunity to say good-bye to his loved ones before he...has to go."

Usurna huffed before stepping back and letting go of Toby's shoulder. "You have five minutes. We will give you privacy...within reason." She, Gatto, Vendel, and the guards, retreated to the far end of the room. Toby, who'd hoped a 24-hour delay so they could explain this to Dr. Lake, approached slowly. Aaarrrgghh had grabbed Jim in a hug, while Blinky talked at him (a lecture or advice on what he might expect in the Deep, Toby supposed). Eli didn't seem to have anything to say, just gave Jim a quick, awkward hug and retreated.

Toby caught the tail end of something Steve said to Jim. "-if you die down there!" Steve snapped, before chasing after Eli.

And then it was just Jim and Toby. Toby hung back, certain if he hugged Jim, they'd have to pry him off, or drop them into the Deep together. Jim was looking away from Toby, at his feet. It was quiet between them for just a moment, but if felt too long.

"I'm sorry," Jim blurted. "I wasn't thinking, I just saw Blinky, and he was _crushed_ \- I didn't think."

"You're an asshole, Jimbo," Toby muttered. "A selfless, self-sacrificing asshole. I love you, and I _know_ you're gonna make it out of there." Jim shrugged. "You _will_."

And then fuck it, he stepped up and pulled Jim close to him. Jim huffed in surprise, but squeezed back. Despite himself, Toby found himself trying to memorize the feel of Jim in his arms, bent down over him, squeezed against Toby's chest.

"It's time for the Trollhunter to go."

Jim pulled Toby's arms apart and stepped back. His eyes were wet, which wasn't fair, because that was going to make _Toby_ cry.

"See you later, Tobes." Jim held out a hand, and Toby shook it, startled when he felt something in Jim's palm. He looked up at Jim, who gave him a curt nod. Toby nodded in response, and turned away. He didn't watch as he heard the rattle of chains or the grind of machinery. He didn't watch as the chains rattled again, or at the dreadful pause. He'd said his goodbye.

He'd see Jim again; he _had_ to.

"Goodbye, Trollhunter." 

Toby spun, just in time to see the top edge of the cage plummet into the darkness.

\---

**Three Days Later**

"I can't tell if this is better or worse than his trip to the Darklands." Barbara's voice was strained; she'd spent at least one conversation over the last several days just crying. "It was dangerous, but there was a feeling - he gave Toby the Amulet, Walter."

Strickler had feared this from the moment he'd learned Jim was the Trollhunter, though he had expected Jim to fall in battle, not the uncertainty and fading hope of being cast into the Deep. Trollhunters did not live long, but he had hoped Jim would survive longer.

"Your son has always had a keen sense of responsibility. He clearly wished to ensure the Amulet was not lost should he...not return. It is one of his most admirable traits. Along with his...compassion."

"Young Atlas - I've heard you call him that. I could never keep him from worrying about me - cooking for me, looking after me. And in the end, I couldn't be there for him!"

"It's not the same, I know, Barbara, but I've lost colleagues, friends, in my time, and...we can't blame ourselves. Even with children, with those in our care...we can only do so much. Offer only so much support. Protection."

"What - can I do, Walter?"

Strickler held his phone close, wishing...well, he didn't know if it'd help at all if he was there. Or if he'd be just as helpless, only able to see her misery in person.

"I...don't know, Barbara. Keep going. Survive."

Something slammed into Strickler's front door. He jumped, turning to it, as whatever was on the other side began beating at it. Strickler shed his human form, drawing one of his spines as he rose.

"Walter? What's-"

"Shh. I'm not certain."

"Stricklander you workaholic fuck you better be home!"

Strickler jolted up, dropping his phone and spine in his shock. If there was voice he had never expected to hear in Arcadia Oaks-

He pulled open the door to reveal a man, dark-haired, violet-eyed, bedecked in gold, braced against the doorframe, panting. Frederick - one of the Council of Janus' Second Face, the only one of them who yet remained in the public Janus Order.

"What are you doing _here_ , Frederick? _How_ did you get here?"

"It's happening, Stricklander," Frederick puffed.

"What's...happening?"

"They put out the _call_ , Stricklander. Had to fucking fast-talk to get out of there and see you."

Walter nodded and walked numbly back to where he'd dropped his phone.

" _Walter_?"

"Barbara, I'm going to need to speak to you later."

"Walter, what's going _on_?"

"What has happened to Jim may be your worst nightmare, Barbara, but _mine_ appears to have come to pass."

"Walter, can you just-"

"Gunmar is _back_ , Barbara."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frederick is the creation of IncognitoPhenomenon, who kindly allowed me to present my take on his personality.


	13. At the End of Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war for Heartstone Trollmarket

**Not so Long Ago, Aboard a Cruise Ship**

At 3:47 in the morning, the last of the winds died down and the ship settled back into its normal motion. Laira eased her legs away from the walls she’d braced them against and looked Sebastian over. He was still a little pale, but gave her a weak smile.

“Alright, soldier?” she asked.

Sebastian chuckled. “Of course. I’m not going to be taken out by a little storm.”

“It wasn’t just a little storm.” Of course, if it had gotten too bad, Laira could have gotten them to safety...probably.

Sebastian rolled his eyes and nudged her side. “You want to see if they’re reopening the kitchen?”

“Yeah, I’m starving.”

But before Laira could stand, between one breath and the next, the air changed. A crushing weight, like the air signaling an oncoming storm, sent Laira stumbling.

“Laira!”

“I’m fine,” she ground out. But the pressure remained, and another sensation intruded as she fought for breath. A metallic scent with an acidic tang. A high ringing sound that set her teeth on edge.

And the unease she’d felt since the trip had began blossomed into the same flutter of fear as when a mission went wrong.

She’d felt something like this before. Once. And she’d barely survived the encounter.

The crushing weight was so much more than she’d experienced before.

“Do you have a gun on you?”

“What? No - we had to go through airport-“

“Then come on, we’re stopping by the security office.”

Laira slid open the cabin door and stepped outside without looking back. The air outside was greasy and heavy, pressing against Laira's lungs as she breathed. Here and there were doors open along the corridor; no one else seemed to notice, or be concerned by, the unnatural weight to the air, chattering in relief as Laira pushed past them. It took only a few moments for Sebastian to catch up, grabbing onto Laira's arm to stay close as she pushed through one door into another corridor.

"Can you slow down a moment?"

"I really can't," Laira replied. She paused at one of the ship maps just long enough to find the security office and then took off, trusting Sebastian to follow. "If I'm right about what's happening, very shortly someone will try to kill me." The floor shook beneath their feet; Laira let her center of gravity drop to steady herself, while Sebastian stumbled against her.

"When you say someone," he said slowly, "Who...are we talking about?"

Laira sighed. There were things she knew Sebastian had figured out, things he’d deduced or skirted at the edges of. But both of them had (mostly) kept their secrets until now.

“I’m certain you know I’m not just some lost extraterrestrial. That although I am...technically stranded, I came here for a purpose.” Sebastian nodded as Laira gently pushed through a group of elderly vacationers. “ _Officially_ , I am recognized as an ambassador. But the same way your personnel file called you a liaison. _My_ position was a little more...proactive than yours, however. I identified and...neutralized threats to my people.” 

The ship rocked again; distant screams filtered through to Laira. Sebastian paused, or tried to; Laira pulled him forward. Those screams said there was a chance this was all just bad luck, that the creature now on board the ship was not here to kill her. Unlikely, but possible. But if that were the case, they didn’t expect resistance. Laira and Sebastian might stand a chance.

“I’ve spent much of the last decades following one specific threat. A cult, far-reaching and utterly depraved. Practitioners of blood sacrifice and theocratic oppression. The Cult of the Sleeping God.”

They had no time to argue with ship security, so when they arrived at the office, she dropped the officers, making their limbs too heavy to lift. Sebastian gathered what firearms he could while Laira collected the tasers, sprays, batons. Manipulating gravity while wielding projectile weapons required being a better shot than Laira was.

“So, you think the cult caught up with you? I’ve...never heard of them.”

“Not...exactly. The cult was seductive, and I would destroy one cell only to find another had sprung up. So I began to research, and reached two conclusions.” The ship shook and groaned; the screams were closer, and were more clearly terrified. They had seen what happened to the first group, Laira guessed.

“The first is that the Sleeping God was a real entity, sleeping somewhere in the universe.”

She kicked open the door to the main deck, where gore was splattered and smeared across the walls, the deck itself. A slender creature, ten or more feet tall, skin a gleaming crimson (or coated in blood), a squashed face marked by glowing red eyes and fangs six inches long, their head crowned by a circle of horns, stood twenty feet away, a human heart clutched in their claws.

“The second was the Sleeping God’s resting place was your planet. Knowing that, there was only one reasonable course of action - come to Earth to assassinate him.”

Laira shed her human guise, allowing her to hold two batons along with the tasers (pepper spray would not be effective unless she was much closer to that face). She crouched, letting her weight spike as she dropped, then using the tension to launch herself forward as she made herself weightless.

The creature looked up and shifted their right hand. Fifteen feet of deck twisted and ripped up, forming a wall of metal between her and them. Laira boosted her weight, sending her tumbling rather than slamming into the ragged edges of the wall. Gunshots from behind her told Laira Sebastian had joined in on the fun; as she dodged around the makeshift wall, she saw the creature take a bullet to the chest to no apparent effect. They were, however, distracted by Sebastian's fire (suggesting enough bullets would do the trick - or one bullet in the right place), allowing Laira to get in close and slam a taser into their thigh.

A hand spun around and grabbed Laira's arm, sending the taser's shock through her, something that might have hurt her if Akiridian biology were more like humans. Her baton slammed into their arm ineffectively - their skin and bones made of something tougher than any human's. So she spun, made herself as heavy as she could manage, and used the force of her fall to flip the creature and slam them into the deck. Their other hand hit the deck first, and the floor gave, bending and crumpling to absorb the shock of their fall. A flurry of bullets gave her cover to roll away and plan another line of attack.

The creature grabbed a deck chair; the plastic melted and reformed around their head and shoulders. One of Sebastian's shots ricocheted off the new armor, and Laira realized what their opponent was doing. Blood magic drew power from sacrifice. Of course, blood magic had long ago become synonymous with the taking of life, but...using the sacrifice of matter to rearrange that _same_ matter could technically be called blood magic. Such a sorcerer would easily become well-practiced; matter being more plentiful than blood sacrifice, they would be less concerned about failed experiments.

Such a sorcerer _should not be allowed near the pool_. Laira rooted herself for the leverage to wrench a door away from the nearest wall and hurl it at the creature - they ducked, rolling forward and away from the mass of hydrogen and chlorine just sitting on deck for anyone to transmute. A red canister bounced against their foot; the creature looked down just as the fire extinguisher exploded in a burst of metal shards.

They screamed, clutching at their eyes, and Laira felt a spark of hope - the creature _could_ be hurt. Laira twisted a railing away from its mooring and darted in, stabbing at the creature's stomach with the jagged edges.

They pressed a hand against their throat, and a spark of light flared to light - a stone blazing red. The metal bar slammed into their skin, and turned to dust. They grinned, knocked Laira aside, and sprinted for the pool; they knelt, placing their hands against the surface-

And then Sebastian was there, grabbing at their throat. He pulled a hand away as their opponent screamed in fury, panic, and Sebastian hurled the crimson stone over the edge of the ship. Laira saw a spark at the edge of the pool, and drew close, another fragment of railing in her hands, stabbing at the creature's chest, just as the air was rent by an explosion caused by all of the hydrogen found in an Olympic-sized swimming pool igniting at once.

The last thing she saw was the creature's skin stiffening, greying, as their mouth opened in an agonized scream.

\---

**The Present**

“Vendel is not taking visitors.” The armored Krubera troll standing at attention in front of the Heartstone peered at Draal with narrow eyes. He ignored Blinky entirely.

Blinky let his anger bubble up and poked the guard hard in the hip. “We are hardly visitors. Gunmar has escaped the Darklands and we need to plan a defense!”

The guard frowned. “But you need to visit to do so, and Vendel is not taking visitors.”

“Sorry for bothering you,” Aaarrrgghh said, grabbing Blinky up before he could decide to poke the guard harder - or _shove_ him.

He did, however, struggle against Aaarrrgghh’s grip. “What are you doing? We need to see Vendel!”

“Agree,” Aaarrrgghh replied, setting Blinky down only when they were away from the stone and, Blinky noted, out of earshot. “Draal and I distract guard. _Blinky_ go talk to Vendel.”

“Oh. Yes. A brilliant strategem! I would expect nothing less-“

“We don’t have time for flirting,” Draal interrupted, grabbing Aaarrrgghh’s arm. “Come on. Be quick, Blinky. Something fishy is going on.”

Blinky followed them, feeling a flush of relief at Draal’s comment, confirmation that Blinky’s unease wasn’t just his paranoia talking. 

Draal caught up with the guard with angry, “Do you know who I am? I am an Eclipse Knight! It is my right to-“

“Can’t visit,” the guard repeated.

Blinky used Aaarrrgghh’s bulk as a screen to dart behind the guard as Aaarrrgghh stepped up to join the debate.

And then Blinky was inside Vendel’s office, the warm glow of the Heartstone casting everything in a comforting light. And there was Vendel’s desk, as messy as always, paper and gems and odd little devices scattered in haphazard piles (though Vendel had routinely insisted he knew where everything was). There was Vendel’s chair.

But no Vendel.

“Curious,” Blinky muttered to himself. If Vendel weren’t here, why would the guard not say that?

What was he hiding?

Blinky looked to Vendel’s desk and sighed. He had to be quick, which meant being...cursory. He shoved the gems aside and began scanning the papers. Nothing seemed unusual, no damning statement or-

Blinky looked at the gems. Most of them were decorative - it was well known Vendel liked the look of them. So his desk would be an ideal place to keep a magic stone hidden in plain sight.

On that hunch, it took only a moment to find the rock that didn’t belong - an anamnesis stone! A message of some sort, apparently.

“Hey! No visitors!”

“Oh don’t worry; I wasn’t visiting, just cleaning up. A place like this certainly can’t remain this clean without regular servicing. But I can see your point. I’ll just go - let you get back to your guarding.”

He waited until they were well out of earshot before producing the stone.

“You were right, Draal. Something strange _is_ going on, given that Vendel felt it necessary to leave us a message.”

“Could be grocery list,” Aaarrrgghh said.

“Could be. Is not,” Blinky retorted. “The only problem is figuring out what the key is. A phrase we might easily guess that whomever Vendel was trying to conceal this from would not.”

“Blinky,” Aaarrrgghh said slowly, obviously ready to argue the anamnesis stone was less a sign of a secret message than Vendel’s forgetfulness.

So Blinky waved him away. “No, I’m sure I can figure it out if I just apply logic to what I know about Vendel-“

“ _Blinky_.”

Blinky jolted back at the sudden closeness of Aaarrrgghh’s face. Aaarrrgghh pointed at the stone, which was casting the translucent image of Vendel into the middle of the main street of Trollmarket. Vendel tapped something, frowning.

“Well, we’ll just have to hope you’re working,” he said. Several trolls nearby paused to stare at the image, and Blinky cursed Vendel for having made it likely the stone would be activated in a public place.

“Come in.”

The image of Queen Usurna and one of her guards approached that of Vendel. She turned her head slowly, a faint frown on her face.

“You do not place too much weight on that...pretender’s words, I hope.”

“The chieftain of the Quagawumps would fight you for such slander against her king,” Vendel replied, voice mild. “But I put no more weight on his words as I do accusations thrown with little more than circumstantial support.”

Usurna sighed, shaking her head. “I hoped you might think otherwise. It might have prevented unnecessary bloodshed.”

“Blood-“ Vendel never finished his inquiry, Usurna stepping forward to stab a slim blade into Vendel’s side. The wound began greying immediately; Vendel’s eyes widened in shock, turning to Usurna in a fierce glare. “Creeper’s Sun? And how will you explain this, Usurna?”

She shrugged. “It won’t be necessary, not, at least, until it’s too late.” Her guard grinned and their skin glowed, twisted, and then was the perfect image of Vendel. Trolls gasped, and when Blinky looked up, found the crowd had grown substantially - forty or so trolls were watching the recording with what was now shock and horror as the changeling, as _Otto Scarbach_ , took the place of their more or less beloved leader.

One troll stepped forward - rotund, dark-haired, scowling at the anamnesis stone's images as it started its message again. "What is this, Blinky?"

"Vendel can't be _dead_!" another cried.

"Everyone, just calm down!" Blinky called, raising his hands. As this was just below eye level for many trolls, it did not have the desired effect. "Yes, things may look bad. Usurna may have killed Vendel, replaced him with a changeling imposter. Yes, Gunmar may have escaped from the Darklands-"

" _What_?" A dozen voices demanded in near-unison.

"Gunmar? We'll all _die_!"

"Not necessarily! Admittedly, the Trollhunter has been banished to the Deep by Queen Usurna's treachery, and as far as we have been able to determine, Gunmar is all but unkillable by conventional means-"

A hand clamped over Blinky's mouth. "Blinky. Shut up." Draal pulled himself up higher. "Listen! Yes, these are ill tidings. But they do _not_ mean we are doomed! This is the moment for which the Eclipse Knights were _formed_! And though the Trollhunter is lost, he has left a legacy in his friends - powerful allies who will fight with us against Gunmar! Standing together, _we cannot fail_!"

\---

There had been no debate, when Gunmar had declared it - that the army he had carried from the Darklands would march on Trollmarket, giving no heed to centuries of concealment.

Which was fair - this was a declaration of war, his triumphant return to the surface world. And if things went well tonight, it wouldn't matter if an army marched on them afterward.

(And Raum couldn't be certain, but he suspected the decision was not Gunmar's own. The connection between him and Morgana did not allow him to read her mind, and she did not share her secrets easily. But allowing the world to see the doom that came for it was her style - Raum had always been partial to ambushes, but he was small and easy to squash.)

Of Gunmar's four generals, only one marched with him - two of the others fallen in battle, and the third a traitor Raum was certain Gunmar intended to seek out this night to destroy. But Gruthark was more than enough. His draconic heritage made his trollish skin all but impenetrable. It let him tear through spells like they were made of paper. He was a match for an army himself, and he led a hundred of the most dangerous and vicious creature who served Gunmar.

And Gunmar himself stood at the head of his army of Gumm Gumm Warriors - those whose will had been stolen by the Decimaar Blade and twisted into something more pliable. Hundreds strong, they were not as skilled as a thinking warrior, but their numbers were enough to overwhelm even experienced companies. And Trollmarket, aside from traitors and Eclipse Knights, was _not_ experienced.

As Raum flew above their army as they marched from the hidden entrance of the Janus Order (even now preparing for the age to come, when they would fulfill their centuries-long mandate to sabotage and destabilize in anticipation of Gunmar's war on humanity) to Heartstone Trollmarket, though, he noticed something...odd. It was not long after sunset, but the streets of Arcadia were empty. He would have expected the army to happen upon hapless humans, who would fall before Gruthark, clashes with police when someone made a panicked call. Not...nothing.

Raum was missing something, and there was nothing he hated more than something he didn't know.

But it wasn't important, not in the long run. Usurna's control over Trollmarket would soften the initial defense, and then…

It would be a slaughter.

They arrived at the entrance to Heartstone Trollmarket, guarded by ancient wards that had held Bular at bay, pierced only once through a massive operation by the Order of Dawn.

Raum landed before the stone wall and inhaled. " _Govey Mir **aad**_!"

Under the assault of the Shout, a command issued in the dragon tongue, laced with one's own indomitable will, the door...ceased to be. And beyond it was…

If Raum had to estimate, hundreds of dvarkstones, one of the most unstable magical substances in existence.

Which had just been subject to a blast of magical energy.

"Oh, _fuck_."

\---

Kellor waved at the front lines as the caverns shook, calling them to battle stations. _No one_ expected the trap to do more than inconvenience Gunmar, but it was important the trolls of Trollmarket feel they had shed the first blood, that Gunmar would not enter their home untouched. That when Draal and Kellor make the first assault, their colleagues not see a hopeless charge but the joining of a battle between equal forces.

(It was a lie, of course. She and Draal together could not best Gunmar. Though not a troll, not a human, not even truly a changeling, Kellor knew if she had the right tool, she could be the one to slay Gunmar. But not with a mere two warriors. But this was, in part, a battle of propaganda; if they allowed Gunmar to convince them he could not be defeated, they could not win.)

The first wave, Gumm Gumm Warriors, came screaming out of the path that led to the surface, and Kellor had no time for thought, leaping into the fray, breaking legs, arms, sending others into unconsciousness with sharp blows. Draal sped into near-invisibility and bowled over a dozen warriors. But the strength of the Gumm Gumm Warriors was not their skill, but their numbers, and they continued to come. There were other soldiers, those who were not slaves to Gunmar but his subjects, trolls who had abandoned all precepts of morality to feast upon thinking creatures, to follow Gunmar only because he was the strongest.

One had a Phylactery, calling forth a translucent wall that halted Draal's momentum with a jarring collision. Another used the cover of a band of Gumm Gumm Warriors to draw close to Kellor, nearly cutting one of her hands off.

"Fall back!" she called to Draal, before taking her own advice, allowing the second wave to break into the streets of Trollmarket, flowing into it like a wave, at least until they hit the first lines of defense.

Blood began to flow in earnest.

And then he came. Gruthark the Unbowed, the Quartz-Hide, Dragon-Blooded, who served Gunmar only because of the terror he wielded marching under their banners united. He towered over even some of the buildings in Trollmarket, the rainbow of his hide-veins cast upon his skin. He carried a hammer in one hand, tiny, but by legend so heavy no creature save he could wield it. The only saving grace was that he wore no Phylactery.

"If it is your desire to die by my hand," he bellowed, "I shall accommodate you!" And he smashed through one of the barricades they'd constructed, and turned to another, a fifteen-foot-tall pile of furniture.

Which rose as he turned to it, slamming its fist, an antique ottoman, into Gruthark's stomach. And all over Trollmarket they rose, trundling toward the great general. Three hundred years of junk, refuse, stolen treasures and trinkets, animated into golems, crafted for the same purpose as the first golem - to protect.

Two tackled Gruthark as he hurled one away, and then Angor Rot was there, twin blades at the ready, drawing a third even as the first shattered against Gruthark’s thigh.

All around them golems fought, indestructible against the mindless tactics of Gunmar’s puppets. The free-willed soldiers were forced to band together to destroy them, allowing Trollmarket’s living defenders to surge against the Gumm Gumms.

The cavern shook with a deafening roar, a sound not heard on Earth for hundreds of years. Those who had witnessed such battles paused, shuddering, for Gunmar’s battle cry always heralded a slaughter.

The Gumm Gumm king was tall for a troll, but nowhere near the fierce, wiry height of Gruthark. But his presence loomed; accounts always spoke of him as a giant, a force of unchecked destruction.

“Gunmar!”

Draal threw warriors and soldiers aside as he waded through the battle, blade pointed at Gunmar. Kellor swore and charged after him, dodging cuts of blades and slash of claws. Draal _couldn’t_ be that stupid - except he clearly was.

“You have killed too many, human and troll, stolen whelps and children to bolster your armies, and it ends _today_!”

It was perhaps too much to expect someone who had lost his father to this war, whose own family had been raided for whelps to make changelings, to act rationally when faced with the one responsible for it all.

He clashed with Gunmar, the Gumm Gumm catching the first two strikes easily before retorting with an overhand blow that nearly drove Draal into the ground.

“None have yet managed to kill me - why should _you_? Your father failed - fled me rather than risk death.”

Draal snarled and lunged forward heedlessly; Gunmar dodged the blow easily, laughing. “I will not die today - no Krubera has seen such a fate for me!”

 _Krubera_? Kellor felt a surge of panic - Usurna had fled, wisely, on discovery of her treachery. But she, too, had an army.

Kellor tapped a gem on her phylactery. “Angor Rot! The Gyre!”

His voice chuckled in her ear. “We learned our lesson last time. Our human allies volunteered to stand watch. The Trollhunter’s mother, in particular, was eager for a chance at the treacherous Krubera queen.”

Kellor smiled despite herself. Dr. Lake’s victory over Draal was a thing of legend. And a moment’s thought made clear as one who had saved a dozen or more lives at the Battle of Fading Dawn, she knew what injuries a troll could survive. And while humans may respect the sanctity of a medic, Dr. Lake must know trolls would give no quarter.

If Queen Usurna met the mother of the child she had, albeit indirectly, condemned to the Deep…

It did not take a Krubera’s sight to guess what Dr. Lake would do.

Draal avoided a neck-high swing, but fell before Gunmar, blade skittering away from him. Gunmar grinned and swung the Decimaar Blade again.

Stopped it an inch from Draal’s face. 

“No!” Kellor fought forward, desperate, but knowing she would not arrive in time.

Indeed, as she drew close, Gunmar pulled the blade away and Draal rose, turning to Kellor. His eyes were blank, colorless. Not blind, but devoid of will.

Any will but Gunmar’s.

—-

Bular had spent close to a year in hiding - not in fear, but in meetings with Stricklander’s allies, reading of things Gunmar had never told him, training.

Bular had thought at the beginning that they intended him to kill his father. But a prophecy laid at his birth made such an attempt the height of foolishness. No troll nor human would bring about Gunmar’s end.

But now he understood. Any troll could fight for control of the Gumm Gumms - Stricklander needed Bular to demonstrate the ability to lead, to _support_ the changelings. Which is why he was following Frederick, a creature whose opposition to Gunmar appeared to be solely born of indolence, to the changelings' lair.

"This makes no sense - Gunmar is attacking _Trollmarket_!" Bular protested as Frederick fumbled for the key he needed to enter the Janus Order's headquarters. "And why can't I just smash the door open?"

"Because we are _professionals_ ," Frederick retorted. "Ha!" He pulled a small card from one pocket. "Besides, we have enough problems without having to worry about the security system. I don't remember half the shit it does, but what I _do_ remember is not fun."

"And what of Gunmar?"

"Yeah, I'm not going to go wading into _that_ shitshow." Frederick swiped his card against an unremarkable poster at the back of the travel agency that served as the front for the Janus Order.

" _I_ am a warrior feared throughout trolldom-"

"Which is why you're with _me_ ; I'm not wandering around a potentially hostile environment without someone to look intimidating. This," he said, gesturing at the long white coat draped over his shoulders, matching white shoes, and bangles, bracelets, and gold tips to his nails, "is a carefully constructed aesthetic, but not particularly imposing."

" _Why_ are we here, instead of Trollmarket?" Bular growled, trying to rein in his frustration.

"Because," Frederick said, stepping into a large metal room that opened behind the poster, "Gunmar is only...well, more than half, certainly. Three-quarters of the problem, at least, but hardly _all_ of it."

"...The changelings? You led me to believe you wanted to _protect_ them."

"I wasn't planning on cutting a swathe through the Janus Order, no. Though if anyone _is_ lingering around the place, you're gonna need to use those oversized muscles to subdue them."

The room jolted into movement, heading down. Bular growled. "Will you just talk _sense_?"

Frederick shrugged and leaned back. " _Something_ brought Gunmar back from the Darklands. The Janus Order isn't going to take their eyes off of something like _that_."

"So we destroy it?"

"Or steal it. Copy it. Sell it to the highest bidder. I'm trying to be flexible here."

The room jolted to a stop and Frederick bowed, gesturing at the now-exposed door to the main complex. "Now, I think there was some talk of you being the muscle of this outfit?"

The conversation was apparently over, so Bular stepped inside. He probably knew the complex better than Frederick, who, though ostensibly a member of the Janus Order, Bular had never met in his centuries of running the damn thing. He had never seen it this quiet, though. There was _always_ someone broadcasting coded messages, taking phone calls, guarding things…

It felt dead.

"They're really serious about scrambling the troops, aren't they?" Frederick muttered. "Left this whole place empty."

The intercom at the next turn in the hallway crackled to life. "Not empty, Frederick. And must I say, your colleague's choice of disguise is in incredibly poor taste." Otto's voice ended in a dry chuckle.

"Oh, _Lord_ ," Frederick groaned. "Hey, old man! Great day, right? Downfall of Heartstone Trollmarket, dominion of the surface world, etc., etc."

"Shut up, Frederick. So, satisfy my curiosity - who _is_ your friend? Not Siobhan - she _hates_ male forms. Not Ngozi-"

"Silence your prattling, Scarbach!"

There was a pause as they pressed forward into the storage wings; Frederick apparently had some idea of where they were going.

" _Lord Bular_? But you-"

"Jeez, rule _one_ is _always look for a body_!" Frederick griped. "I know there was a lot of rubble around the place, but checking for the _corpse of your manager_ seems like a reasonable part of the 'clean-up' process."

"Well, I hate to break up this new partnership, but evidence is mounting Frederick is not on our side, Lord Bular."

Bular shrugged. "What is 'our side', Otto? Gunmar's? Morgana's?"

There was silence for a moment. "In retrospect, Frederick's lack of devotion to the cause is unsurprising. But _you_ , Lord Bular? What are you even doing here?"

"You brought Gunmar back from the Darklands."

"You want to know our secret?" Otto asked. "How we undid the work of Tiffany the E'er Prepared? Perhaps _you_ will be impressed. You will find it in the Auditorium."

Frederick raised one eyebrow at Bular, a silent question. And it was _obviously_ a trap, but Otto was also enough of a blowhard to want to show off his accomplishments even if it was a tactical error. So Bular led the way to the Auditorium, a room he'd used exclusively for screaming at the Janus Order for their perceived failings.

He paused outside the door, taking a deep breath, and looked back at Frederick. "Do you have _any_ weapons?"

"Only my killer sense of fashion."

Bular drew one of his blades and shoved the door open.

Inside was the Killahead Bridge, framing the back wall of the room, and arched over a dark portal. Otto was sitting at the apex of the bridge, a microphone in one hand. He waved at Bular.

"Lord Bular! I am afraid I allowed my shock to supplant the respect which you are due. Good evening, and welcome to the foyer to the Darklands - our personal staging ground for our assault upon the surface world!"

Bular peered at the bridge, trying to understand from where it drew the power to hold open a portal to the Darklands. There was something set in the impression which had once held the Amulet of Daylight - a red light spilling out from a palm-sized circle.

"Ah, I see you are admiring the centerpiece of our newest operation. Do you like it? I made it myself." Otto placed a hand against the circle and twisted; it came free, and the portal vanished, the lines of light along the carvings in the bridge faded. "It took extraordinary effort to find the notes, the fragments of blueprints and results of failed experiments. The fall of the Thule Society provided the key, and Vendel's staff - a fragment of the Heartstone - the last piece of the puzzle." He raised the circle above his head. "For the changeling people, **Midnight** is mine to command!"

"Oh… _fuck_ ," Frederick muttered.

\---

Shouts echoed through the caves; distant and largely incomprehensible. Four human children, one human woman, and two changelings, sat in a half-circle around the Gyre. Strickler stood at attention near the entrance to the Gyre chamber, assessing his - charges, he supposed, as most of them were children, and leading a last, final charge against Gunmar aside, he _was_ a teacher.

Tobias was sitting, morose, against the wall, a heavy warhammer sitting next to him. He could not easily be roused, and seemed uninterested in the carnage outside. Jim was not the first person Tobias had lost, but the first he felt some responsibility for.

Claire was sitting near him, but could not be further away. The Skathe-Hrün was not evident; instead, she was practicing the gestures of simple spells (simple but practical ones - a moment of telekinesis could send an opponent off-balance enough to win a battle). Elijah had shared the discovery that Morgana had used the Skathe-Hrün to take control of Claire until her friends had helped free her. Clearly, the experience had shaken her, leaving her unwilling to risk a repeat performance.

The changeling - _Rico_ \- her familiar, brother, and companion, kept a careful perimeter around her. There was something there, something new, between them. A suggestion of what a future for the changelings could be. Presuming they survived the next...hour or so.

Elijah and Steven were standing, watching the Gyre, as they were all supposed to be doing. Strickler was uncertain the exact circumstances under which that friendship had blossomed, but Elijah had grown into himself, the shadows of the last few years of bullying he'd endured fading. And Steven...was growing beyond a sport Strickler was certain he no longer saw as a potential career. He had gained something - a sense of citizenship or responsibility - as a result of his actions over the last year.

And then there was Barbara.

Strickler had no children. He'd had students under his charge die - none while he was acting _in loco parentis_ , but each had caused its own sort of grief. But again, it could not compare to the fate of her son, all but certain, but with just enough doubt that she was tempted to hope.

A distant whine came from the far end of the tunnels, the sign that a Gyre was arriving. Barbara stepped forward, hand tightening around an adamant staff she'd found buried in the armory. She shifted her medic's bag so she could move more easily, and Strickler took his troll form. Tobias stood, moves robotic, face impassive. Claire rose as well, hands shaking at the realization her only weapon was the magic of her own spirit. Between his pants, jacket, and bag, Elijah had so many pockets Strickler had no idea _what_ he was armed with, but he had adapted most easily to the dangers of the supernatural world. And Steven...they had argued about the guns, but in the end, Strickler would not deny a warrior the weapon with which he was most capable.

And there was something poetic about Steven turning the skills he had learned from the Order of Dawn toward _protecting_ trollkind.

The Gyre whirled into view, slamming into a sudden stop. Some people would need a minute to recover from the rapid travel, but not, apparently, the Krubera warriors assigned to lead the assault on Trollmarket. Six leapt from the Gyre, greatswords spinning as they fell toward their prey. Steven grabbed the back of Elijah's shirt and pulled him out of the way as he shot one in the stomach, sending the troll tumbling from the shock rather than the neat landing they'd clearly intended.

And then the battle was joined. A second Gyre arrived as Barbara held off a warrior twice her size with her staff, as Claire stepped behind Toby, flickers of shadow about the chamber showing where her magic reached, small magics that gave Tobias wide openings, that caused deadly strikes aimed at Elijah to go wide, that cut a greatsword in half when a pair of warriors caught her and Tobias in a pincer. And then a third cart arrived before the three Gyres whirred away.

"Fall back!" Strickler shouted. They hadn't expected to defeat whomever Usurna sent, or even to hold them off, but instead to slow them, ensure their arrival was not a surprise. He waved at the children, he and Barbara holding the line as they retreated, as the fourth Gyre arrived-

" _Move_!" Strickler bellowed. Krubera sight came in many forms - those who could see far into the future, those who could see the branching paths of fate. And those who could see no more than a second or two in the future. Such Krubera were not wasted in guiding the future of their people. Instead they were pressed - _im_ pressed - into the Krubera's military, where the ability to see what your opponent would do a moment before they did it was invaluable. But they were rare, and almost never risked in engagements outside the Deep Caverns.

But the blindfolded Krubera who stepped from the Gyre was unmistakably a Blind Monk - their accessory worn because to view the present _and_ the future at once could be overwhelming.

And they always came in fours. A spear sprang from the corridors a moment before another Gyre whirled into place; and because it was thrown by a Blind Monk, although Strickler was trying to move evasively, it struck true, slamming into his thigh. He cried out and fell forward. Barbara grabbed his arm and hauled him up. He tried to shove her off.

" _Go_!" he snapped. "They know what we're going to do-"

"Then they know I won't leave you!"

"Barbara-"

" _I won't lose another person I care about_!" Tears were gathered at the corners of her eyes, but she still hauled Strickler forward. From that angle, he saw one of the Blind Monks ready a spear-

And fall with a cry. "Dr. Lake, _move_!" Steven shouted, turning a rifle on another of the Blind Monks. And Barbara did, ignorant, Strickler presumed, of the impossibility of what Steven had just done. One of them dragged a warrior in front of them to take another bullet from Steven, while the remaining two sprinted forward. Barbara was clearly not going to leave Strickler behind, but he would _not_ let her die for him, twisting around to interpose himself between her and a swing from the closest Blind Monk - the blade cut through one of his wings and deep into his back, but Barbara was apparently channelling the adrenal fury which humans could manage in crises, because she _sped up_.

A bullet hit the fourth Blind Monk, who howled, grabbing at a wound that immediately began to pale, stone spreading from the wound. It was worrying how easily Elijah got his hands on Creeper's Sun, but as Strickler was currently benefiting from it, he had little to complain about.

Admittedly, Strickler mused as they burst into Trollmarket proper, seeing the chaos of the battle within, he might see reason to complain about the fact he was probably going to bleed to death from the vein punctured by the spear and deep wound in his back from that last strike. With Steven laying down cover fire, they took refuge in the shadow of a shallow cave when the two uninjured Blind Monks led their troops against the larger company of trolls standing against Gunmar. Barbara settled Strickler sideways against the back wall, to avoid further aggravating his injuries.

"Dr. Lake?" Elijah asked. "We've got to get out there."

"Eli-" Barbara looked the children over before glancing down at Strickler. "Go. I'll be along shortly." She looked back at Tobias. "Toby...be safe."

Tobias took a deep breath before shaking his head. "I can't, Dr. Lake. I...we've got to hold on. As long as Jim's-" He stepped away, looking down. "Fighting isn't safe, Dr. Lake."

"Wait. As long as Jim's _what_?"

"He gave me the Amulet of Daylight, Dr. Lake." Tobias clenched one hand in a fist. "He - Archimedes taught me how to recognize if the Trollhunter...isn't attuned to it any longer."

"He's _alive_?"

"Maybe - I don't _know_!" Toby reached to his pocket, and froze. "I - where _is it_? I had it when we came down here, Dr. Lake!"

Barbara turned back to Strickler, and he saw it in her eyes. The resignation, the grief. _Acceptance_. They stood at the climax of the war against Gunmar. There was no more time to hope Jim would come back. All they could do was to fight for what they had left.

Her gaze hardened. "Go, Toby. Don't stop fighting. Don't give in. Show them - what Barbara Lake's boys can do."

She sank down next to Strickler as the children left, setting her staff aside and pulling her bag around. She pulled out thread, needle, disinfectant, and a knife. Strickler's vision wavered, blurred, but the knife was in sharp focus. It wasn't a scalpel, but something inset with delicately-etched runes.

Runes to channel Blood Magic through the knife. Strickler struggled, trying to protest, but his breathing was labored, voice weak. He knew Barbara would not kill another for Blood Magic, but that only left one other source for the power she would need to heal his wounds.

Blood mages either became bloodthirsty murderers...or died from the power they drew from their own veins.

But Strickler didn't have the strength to fight as Barbara cleaned his wounds and began working on them, as she slowed the beat of his heart, eased his blood pressure, to slow the flow of blood. As she restored life to the cells at the edge of the cuts.

Sacrificing herself to bring him back.

\---

Alone, Angor Rot may have been able to survive a fight against Gunmar. Together, he and Kellor may have been able to drive him back. He, Kellor, and Draal might have been able to _win_.

But Gunmar and Draal together, working with the coordination of one troll and another bent to his will, might be enough to do what Bular and the Order of Dawn had failed to do...and destroy the Eclipse Knights.

Angor Rot turned aside a blow from Draal that might have sliced open Kellor's stomach, taking a strike from Gunmar instead. He expended the last of the Quartz Heart's power to heal the wound before turning on the Gumm Gumm and his latest puppet.

Angor Rot would have hesitated to kill an innocent troll not yet fully twisted to become one of Gunmar's Gumm Gumm Warriors. Gunmar must have known, or at least suspected, how hard it would be for Angor Rot to bring harm to one of his own Knights.

Presuming he could even last that long.

\---

Otto threw Midnight at Bular, which fragmented into half a dozen blades the moment it left his hand. Frederick ripped off his cheapest bracelet and threw it; the gold flattened, bent, and caught the blades, dragging them down by the sudden weight. Frederick drew in close, gold on his nails stretching into claws that could cut through steel, and swiped at Otto.

Otto's skin hardened into something like adamant, blunting the strike as Midnight, a long, straight blade, reappeared in his hands. Bular interposed as Otto raised the sword, knocking Frederick aside and catching Midnight between his twin swords, wrenching Otto aside and off the bridge. Rather than trying to land on his feet, Frederick took his troll shape, snapping his wings out to catch himself in the air. Otto did much the same, feathered wings letting him glide away from the bridge to land lightly at the far end of the room. He swung Midnight and the blade unfolded into dozens of segments of metal that snapped around like a whip. 

With a flick of his wrist, he ensnared Bular's arm and pulled the larger troll toward him as his fingers stretched into foot-long claws.

Well, two could play at _that_ game. Frederick swung his tail around, letting the trailing end of the gold wraps he kept on it snap out and catch Otto's clawed hand.

Otto smirked, clenched his hand around the gold, and yanked, pulling Frederick toward him.

...Toward Bular.

 _Fuck_. Frederick collided with Bular, sending both of them sprawling onto the ground. Frederick took a moment to slice through the whiplike Midnight and snap the gold bands connecting him to Otto (mourning the loss of a pretty awesome look - you could not impress without a decent tail wrap).

Bular dragged Frederick up after a moment's pause hurled him at Otto.

"Fuck you!" Frederick screamed, but _did_ extend his rings into spiked gauntlets, because survival was _always_ Frederick's top priority.

Frederick grabbed one of Otto's shoulders, digging into the flesh to hold him in one place so he could get in a proper blow.

Otto flickered and vanished. A moment later, Frederick heard Bular grunt in pain; he turned in time to see Otto vanish again, reappearing just in front of Frederick, Midnight raised high.

Frederick raised his arm, shaping his bracelets into proper bracers; the metal, which could be as strong as Frederick could imagine, _dented_.

...Fighting Gunmar was starting to look like the soft option.

\---

Jim wasn't certain how long he had been in the Deep - it could have been hours, days...years? There were realms, he'd heard, where people didn't need to eat or drink, where centuries could pass like days.

In the end, it probably didn't matter. Jim had been laying here for...hours. Weeks. He'd sat down when he'd gotten here, anyway, and just...hadn't been able to get up. It wasn't that he didn't want to, except…

Well, he'd given Toby the Amulet of Daylight. It didn't mean much, as long as Jim was alive, but Jim was going to die down here anyway, and someone should be able to pick up the mantle. God, he hoped Toby remembered he'd promised, once, not to do it. But even that...Toby would do a better job than Jim. _Steve_ would do a better job than Jim; _he_ at least had probably learned the difference between a friend and someone using you to advance their sinister agenda.

_"What's your **real** name?" Jim demanded, fists (or ideas of fists) clenched at his sides._

_The helpless shake of Arthur's head was the only answer he needed._

But being trapped at the bottom of an unfathomably deep chasm put certain things in perspective. The certainty of his impending death made the war between humans and trolls seem sort of meaningless. Humans, after all, had produced the Order of Dawn...had produced the Nazis that had inspired them. _Trolls_ had birthed a vicious faction of human-eating monsters, had kidnapped children to advance their genocidal urges.

In five billion years, the sun would explode - where was the justice in _that_?

There was something there, a thought that tried to press past Jim's clouded thoughts, his dim resentment at a world that expected him to solve problems he'd had no part in creating. Something about...light?

There was something - red light - shining in Jim's eyes. He swatted at it, but when it failed to vanish, he dropped his arm over his eyes. It was so fucking… _unfair_. Jim wasn't even seventeen - he was supposed to be worrying about dances and the SATs, not the fucking end of the world. It'd serve them right if the next Trollhunter was another asshole like Geo - well, like _Sloane_.

Or at least…

Well, Jim was trapped down here, anyway.

But if he weren't…

It was easy for a determined Trollhunter to cause a lot of trouble.

For a moment, Jim was looking down at himself curled up against the wall of the dark cave. He felt strange, taller, broader, his frustration flaring into fierce, burning anger.

And then it was just him again, crying into the crook of his arms, wishing-

He didn't know.

Wishing he weren't in the Deep. Wishing he hadn't volunteered to take Dictatious' place. Wishing he'd cut down that jury, _bathed the Heroes' Forge in their blood_.

Jim screamed, despair warring with fury, before he remembered the bone-deep exhaustion that held him down, and let his head fall. The stone beneath him was cold and dry, the air above him chill and wet, and him between them cold and miserable.

And then it happened again - Jim was looking down at himself, the pathetic creature who had let himself end up down here, had abandoned his responsibilities, his friends, his _mother_ , for a stranger. Daylight was gone, somewhere far above him, and he wasn't certain it would respond to his call. But his hand tightened, and found the hilt of a sword in his grip. Short, curved, bloodstained.

 _He should put this creature out of its misery_.

Jim jolted up, scrambling away, but there was no one else down here. His hands were empty, and the noise of his scrambling echoed around him. He sat in the dark, breathing heavily, while his heart slowed back to normal. Sitting, he could see more clearly the distant red light that had irritated him earlier - two of them. He debated seeking it out before remembering it was pointless. If there was a way out, it was far beyond Jim, who'd succeeded so far by - luck, or other, more capable people standing next to him-

 _He didn't deserve the life he'd been given_. Jim snarled at the sight of himself, the weakling who pretended at some heroic destiny despite doing nothing to earn it. Baring his fangs, he took a step forward.

And Jim saw it - what he'd been ignoring, or unwilling to acknowledge. Two red lights at the level of a small troll's eyes. A rumbling snarl came from the creature's chest, a creature that looked like-

Jim, mostly. He'd made a costume to look something like this, but the reality was far more frightening. Moreso for the blade held tight in the creature's hand, and the hatred and disdain Jim knew they held for him.

"You sit down here, sniveling that you've failed people who you didn't think a moment about leaving behind," the troll snarled. "People who have to move on _without you_ while you cry in some hole. You're _pathetic_." 

Jim backed away, hand reaching for Daylight before he remembered it wouldn't come. 

That if he wouldn't call the Amulet, the sword wouldn't respond to him. And he _couldn't_ call the Amulet, not with Morgana's influence infecting it.

Troll-Jim chuckled. "And then there's _that_. Toby wasn't good enough for you, was he? You needed another friend, a better one, to help you through this? Your _imaginary boyfriend_ \- if only Mary _knew_ what's gone through your head. Wanting to die young, so spending eternity around him in the Void isn't _weird_. Morgana must think you're as pathetic as _I_ do."

"Stop it," Jim pled, backing away, looking for something, _anything_ he could use to defend himself. Because he was certain the troll (changeling? Polymorph?) would grow tired of taunting him eventually, and he _knew_ how they felt about him.

"You think Gunmar will stop if you ask him nicely? That you can make _friends_ with Morgana? The trolls should have accepted the Amulet - then maybe the latest Trollhunter could have been someone with _a goddamed spine_!" The troll snickered. "But I might as well take advantage. You were already planning to let yourself waste away down here - just give in. Let me _end this_."

_"You **cannot** give up, Lake."_

Jim stumbled and fell back. No one had spoken, but his memories had a strange sort of reality here, so Steve's last words to him seemed to echo around him. They hadn't been kind words or supportive words. It came of being an athlete, Jim supposed - they motivated each other differently.

_"I am not equipped to deal with the number of people who'll be crying at me if you die down there."_

Steve had, Jim thought, been trying to say in a roundabout way _he'd_ be sad if Jim died. But...without anything else to distract him, only the furious reflection of himself as a troll, Jim could see something else in Steve's demand.

 _Jim wasn't the only Trollhunter._ Or maybe there wasn't really a Trollhunter, anymore. Just a growing band of those who were trying to preserve what was left of trollkind.

"I haven't failed," Jim said, words sounding feeble, shaky, even as they left his mouth.

"What? Gonna have to speak up, _Jim Lake_."

"I haven't failed," Jim repeated. "Because I'm not...the only one they're relying on." There was something - strength or motivation - flowing back to his limbs and he climbed unsteadily to his feet.

The troll shook their head. "So weak you needed someone else to pick up the slack-"

" _Strong enough to gather others to my side_!" Jim retorted. "King Arthur wasn't the greatest warrior of the Round Table - but it's still _his_ story!"

The troll laughed, a mocking sound. "Comparing yourself to _King Arthur_?"

" **Why not**? He was just a man - a scared kid who pulled a sword out of a stone and became the king he'd never expected to be. The mantle of the Trollhunter is no different than the destiny Merlin pushed on _him_."

"I don't know why I bothered," the troll sighed. "I'm going to have to do this the old-fashioned way." They leapt forward, blood-stained blade at the fore. Jim, used to having Daylight at his hand, twisted his wrist and raised his arm-

Instead of being cut down for exposing his throat to his attacker, Jim felt a sword's hilt settle into his grip, saw a blade interposed between him and the troll, and felt the blow as the troll's weapon slammed into Jim's own. Light exploded from the side of Jim's sword facing the troll, who screamed and turned their face away.

Jim wasted no time and darted forward, drawing first blood with a gash to the troll's shoulder. Claws lashed out at Jim's face, but he parried them, taking a scratch along the side of his throat. And then they were caught in battle, a furious exchange of blows and counter-blows, parries and dodges. As tired as he was, though, Jim was holding his own.

Or...he thought he was.

They had been fighting a minute before Jim realized - every wound he inflicted upon his opponent was mirrored on Jim a moment later. Though fighting with a different type of blade, the troll matched him - even in strength and skill.

He stumbled, and the troll's blade sliced a line across his cheek. Jim scrambled back, looking for a moment to think, but the troll pressed forward, giving him no distance, no time.

This wasn't a fight against a real person, Jim realized. If he died in this fight, he didn't doubt he'd die in real life, but his opponent was...some sort of projection. They would match him blow for blow until Jim faltered, and then they would kill him.

But there was no such thing as an invincible foe - to be invincible would to be God, and then the creature would not be trapped here.

Like Jim was.

Jim nearly lost his head in his shocked moment of realization. The troll hadn't interacted with Jim at first, not until he'd started feeling angry, desperate, miserable.

Jim couldn't stop fighting, but he grit his teeth and tried to rouse something in his mind. Strength. Confidence. _Determination_.

"No quips? No arguments? _Do_ you realize it's hopeless?"

"No," Jim growled. "But I don't have to prove anything to _you_!" He pressed forward and cut the troll's arm. When the troll twisted their blade and dove in to return the favor, Jim stepped aside. He saw shock in the troll's widened eyes, but then the creature caught themself and re-engaged.

"Nice trick," the troll said. "But it won't help in the end."

"I _know_ you're just as skilled as I am," Jim retorted. "I _know_ I can't win with swordplay. But I _also_ know how to defeat you. You're not like Gunmar. You're not like Morgana. You're not really my enemy. You're _me_. You have no power if I have _no doubt_! _No fear_! If I **know** this is just another battle I'll win!"

Jim knocked the troll's sword aside and heard it clatter against the stones at the edge of the cavern. He didn't hesitate - he'd been fighting the evils of the world, troll and human, too long to do so. He plunged the blade into the troll's heart and wrenched it away in a smooth motion. The troll choked and fell back, hitting the floor as blood poured from the wound.

And Jim hadn't been doing this long enough to view that without some pity for his foe. As necessary as it was-

"You can't feel - _sorry_ \- for me," the troll gasped. "I'm everything you...hate about yourself. Everything you - _fear_ you'll become. The things you acknowledge...and those you won't."

"I shouldn't have to kill you," Jim replied. "Those things are still a part of me - they always will be." He looked down at the troll and shook his head. "But this place didn't give me the luxury of working that out a way that hurt less. So I'm sorry."

The troll began laughing - not mockery, just a roaring, wheezing laugh. "You're _serious_! You actually feel sorry for...killing your demons. _Fuck_." They coughed. "Well, you've done it. That's the - right answer. Good job; you beat me. Go ahead, send him home. He's right...over there. Goodbye Jim Lake...Junior."

"He _who_?" But the troll had fallen still, and offered no explanation. So Jim stood and began walking down the tunnel in the direction the troll had pointed. It was still dark, still cold, but it was no longer like drowning. No longer like freezing. It was like a starless, moonless winter's night, an hour before it began to snow - crisp and chill and…

Magical.

Jim had destroyed something here, and he wasn't certain it was just his _own_ demons.

Between one step and the next, Jim stepped from darkness into stark white light. It took a minute of furious blinking to adapt, and so the scene faded slowly into view. The room was a hundred feet on a side, a perfect hemisphere except for the ten-foot arch through which Jim had entered. The walls were made of some crystal that glowed from within. At the center of the room was a platform raised up by a stepped pyramid - like Maya temples, only round instead of square. There was something at the top, and Jim, feeling surprisingly light from his victory, began to climb. It took perhaps a minute before he reached the last step and just...stared.

It was a person - or something person-shaped, short, rotund. They skin gleamed almost gold and they were clad in a robe that seemed to be made of solid sand. They sat, sleeping, breathing evenly, in a chair much too large for them, and all about them were chains made of - something dark that pulsed slowly, like a heart.

Jim was beyond hesitation, so raised his sword and struck the chains where they were attached to the base of the chair.

The chains around the creature's body began to slip down, piling at the foot of the chair as they unwound from their head, their chest, unbinding their arms, torso, and legs, and then the last chain fell to the ground with a clatter like falling coins, the creature opened their eyes.

Their eyes were brown - steady, curious, and then they saw Jim, they smiled. It was like Toby in an unguarded moment of delight, a spark of warmth in Jim's chest flaring to life. They raised a hand and sand curled up from their wrist forming pictures in the air.

A question mark.

"I - my name's Jim Lake - Jr., in case it matters, there's been some confusion on that point. I - this is the Deep, right?"

The creature raised one eyebrow before shrugging.

"Anyway, I - I fought this thing that was like me, but a troll, and they kept trying to make me give up or die or - _something_. I had to - kill them - there wasn't any other way. And after, they said...I'd won?"

Impossibly, the creature's smile grew, and it was like standing in the sun, or being embraced by a loved one. And above their head, sand painted complex images. Of a person falling, and chains reaching up to hold them down. The chains tightening, squeezing the person, until they gasped theatrically, and fell still. The image played a few more times before the creature looked up at Jim.

"You - fell down here, and those - chains tried to kill you?" The creature waved their hand in a circle, an encouraging gesture; Jim looked up at the scene replayed itself. "It kept happening. To anyone who fell down here." And recognizing Jim's foe had been his - fears, insecurities, his _evils_ , Jim saw what a _terrible_ idea using the Deep as an execution chamber had been. "And every time it did, the power down here got stronger."

The creature nodded, expression somber, before they perked up, staring at Jim's sword. An exclamation point appeared over their head.

"What? Is this yours?"

The creature shook their head. Sand curled out from one hand into a whip that snapped at the air to their side, and Jim chuckled. "Don't need a sword, do you?"

But the creature pointed at the sword again, and formed the image of a person, and a...rock with a sword's hilt poking from it.

" _No_ ," Jim breathed. "How - Excalibur's supposed to be at the bottom of a lake somewhere, right?"

The creature shrugged, but pointed at the sword. They were certain, it seemed, this was Excalibur, a legendary blade that had been lost for centuries, that Jim had no right wielding.

...But Jim had argued that with his involvement in the war against Morgana, his growing circle of allies, and the impossibly high expectations people had of him, he might as _well_ be King Arthur. And with the Deep giving Jim's deepest fears form and imprisoning a person who spoke with magic sand, things didn't have to be real to exist down here. It might be Excalibur, but might not be the _real_ Excalibur.

Rather than thinking on that further, Jim huffed and sat down against the chair, finding the seat about at eye level. He looked up at the creature. "Who are you, anyway?"

The creature painted a landscape of sand and held it a moment before something streaked across the sky of the picture. Jim looked up and shook his head, not quite following. The creature sighed and repeated the scene, this time jerking their finger at the streaking object.

"A - an alien? Did you have some sort of crash landing?"

The creature puffed up a little, frowning, before they settled down and nodded, smiling. And then they looked up, smile fading again.

"What's wrong? That thing isn't _back_ , is it?"

The creature shook their head. But they held out a hand to Jim; he reached out his own to receive a small...sandstone. "What's this?"

A model of the Amulet of Daylight appeared in front of the creature. It swung open, revealing the depressions in which stones could fit.

"A stone for the Amulet." He looked at the model. "It's that sand you use - it'd let _me_ use it, right?"

The creature nodded, but then held up a finger. Next to them appeared an hourglass, sand falling through the top bulb. "It won't last forever. How long?"

Clock hands and a clock face appeared - the long hand spun around one circuit, and the short one ticked forward a portion of the circle. "An hour." Another nod. "Well, thanks. Obviously it'll come in handy someday-" The creature shook their head and tapped their wrist. " _Now_? I mean, I know I need to get out of here, but-"

The sand twisted into a form Jim had only seen once, but would never forget.

" _Gunmar_?" The creature nodded. It was impossible to imagine Gunmar had escaped the moment Jim was sent to the Deep, but the alternative was that Jim had been down here...days, if not longer.

"I've got to go!" Jim held out his hand, and despite the distance, the fact they might be in another dimension entirely, the Amulet of Daylight appeared within it. He reached out to open it, but a whip of sand snagged Jim's wrist; he looked up at the creature, who held one finger up. A stylized sun, with rays emanating from it, and below it, a long bench on which lay a humanoid figure. The sun began to melt, and the figure sat up off the bench, stretching their arms. The creature looked grim, somber, so Jim nodded. He _got it_ , but he also needed to go help his friends.

But because his mother had raised him right, Jim nodded to the creature. "Thank you. I - if there's anything I can do-" The creature pointed at their chains, and Jim laughed. "Okay, I get it. Thanks, though. And good luck with whatever you've got going on!"

\---

Gruthark ripped the stone heart from another golem, sending the construct crumbling to pieces. Aaarrrgghh, having fought Gruthark perhaps twice in his lifetime, slammed into the giant troll's hip, sending his stumbling a step. Gruthark looked down at Aaarrrgghh and _laughed_.

"Are you trying to _hurt_ me, little traitor?"

"Don't want to hurt you," Aaarrrgghh growled, "Uncle."

" _Uncle_? You have not called me in a long time, child." Gruthark swiped Aaarrrgghh up, holding him up by his tight grip around Aaarrrgghh's torso. "And as we are not blood, and as you have betrayed our king, I think you have _no right_ to call me that any longer. But in the interest of whatever affection I might have once held for you, I will give you a painless death."

Aaarrrgghh did not struggle against the elder troll's grip. The future had long been clouded to him, and now he knew why. Gunmar brought with him a thousand possible futures, each of them soaked in blood and misery. The only certainty there was a lack of hope. Except…

Something elusive had haunted Aaarrrgghh's visions. Nothing possible enough to be clear to him. But something...hopeful.

It drew closer to him now.

"Will not die here," Aaarrrgghh said.

"Who will save you?" Gruthark demanded. "Your lover is nowhere to be found. Your Eclipse Knights are warring against one now bound to Gunmar's will. And your Trollhunter…"

Trolls did not speak of angels. They did not look to the sky as the home of protectors and saviors. The closest thing their legends had to an 'angel', humans might call 'Furies' - winged agents of justice and of vengeance.

A Fury rose behind Gruthark, a creature the size of a human armed with a blade shining with the dawn's light. Two whips, gold in color, snapped around Gruthark's wrists, and he grunted, surprised, dropping Aaarrrgghh and turning just as the avenging spirit fell upon him.

The blade glanced off of his forearm, and then the figure was beyond them, soaring up on awkward wingbeats. A familiar figure clad in silver armor, held up by golden wings of sand.

"Trollhunter _alive_ ," Aaarrrgghh said, lifting himself from the ground. "Aaarrrgghh not die here. You...might, Uncle."

The whips yanked Gruthark forward with a grunt, until he let out a wordless scream and yanked _back_ , and they crumbled like wet sand. "New magic, Trollhunter? You cannot touch me that way."

And Jim, held aloft by the power of some new gem, laughed. "And what about _Gunmar_? This is the magic of a creature from beyond our world. _What do you think it would do to him_?" Jim darted away as Gruthark swung his hammer at him; Aaarrrgghh threw himself back at Gruthark, sending him back a step as he tried to chase after Jim. Gruthark howled and tossed Aaarrrgghh aside like a rebellious whelp before charging after Jim on all fours.

\---

Frederick ducked behind Bular as Otto flicked Midnight up again, the blade splintering into dozens of dark needles as it soared toward Frederick and Bular. This whole fight was _frustrating_. 

Bular closed the distance between him and Otto, who vanished to reappear next to Frederick. Frederick stepped back and yanked at Bular's prosthetics. The gold in the devices was enough to move Bular and slam him into Otto; both of the other trolls cried out, but the hardened warrior was the first to push himself up, hand clenched around Otto's throat.

Otto vanished again, Midnight stabbing forward as he appeared inside Frederick's guard. Frederick didn't allow his triumph to show as he raised one arm slowly, certain his armor would not no more than blunt the strike. With the other, he grabbed the Amulet of Midnight, pulling it from Otto's chest.

It was worth the gash in Frederick's arm to see the shock on Otto's face, the dawning realization that Bular was a practiced killer, and was closing on him with his blades ready to strike.

But Otto had long been a tactician of the Janus Order - while he might not have the skills to fight head-to-head against Bular, he was a quick thinker. The Trollhunter could not be denied the Amulet of Daylight; they could call it from half a world away. _Whatever_ Otto was now, the Amulet of Midnight was the same way, as it flipped from Frederick's grip back into Otto's. Otto took the form of a Kappa as the armor reformed around him, the turtle shell and Armor of Midnight enough to blunt the blows.

He turned, grinning.

And then paused. His expression shifted from a smile to a scowl, as one hand raised, jerkily moving into a strange position. " _Was ist das_?" He winced, stumbling down onto one knee. " _Wer_ -"

Bular took an uncertain step forward, a hesitant frown on his face. And Frederick could sympathize - something he didn't understand was happening, and he didn't want to act without knowing what that was.

And yet-

A gesture from Otto grabbed Frederick in an invisible grip and hurled him back; Bular was similarly thrown away. Otto stood, expression...strange.

"That fool thought he could steal my _life_?" Otto sneered. "He will soon-" He screamed, dropping Midnight as he grabbed his left hand, the one he'd used to cast whatever magic he'd used to distance Frederick and Bular.

He was struggling with himself, and that meant-

Bular charged at Otto, blades held high, while Otto screamed at himself in incoherent German.

\---

"Holy fuck." Toby swung his hammer around to knock aside a longsword meant for Claire, but his mind was not there - it was fucking halfway across Trollmarket.

"What? Toby, I do not need more bad news right now," Claire snapped. She made a sideways chopping motion with her right hand, and a nearby soldier slumped to the ground, one hand reaching up to their head. "We are outnumbered, like two-thirds of our heavy hitters are stuck trying to keep Gunmar and _Draal_ from killing us all, and Jim-"

"Is a fucking _miracle worker_ ," Toby breathed. " _Look_!"

Somehow, in a place said to be nothing more than a dark hole full of misery, Jim had found a gem that let him grow _golden wings_.

"Oh, come on, that's just not _fair_!" Claire moaned.

"I know, right? Now come on, we gotta help him."

"What?" Claire's eyes widened briefly. "Toby, no, I get airsi-"

But because they had no time, Toby had already grabbed Claire around the waist and launched them into the air. Toby was doing a lot better at Physics than he'd expected to, and he suspected it was because he'd spent six months learning to manipulate his weight and momentum in situations like this. Jim had reached Gunmar and Draal, but between him and Toby was General Gruthark, charging forward to tip the battle back in Gunmar's favor.

Toby hit the roof of one of the buildings and re-oriented. "I'm going after the big guy."

Claire shook her head. "I couldn't touch him with the _Shadowstaff_ , Toby."

"You wanna try your hand against Gunmar?"

Claire narrowed her eyes at the raging battle between Gunmar, Draal, Angor Rot, Kellor, and Jim. "I don't think I want to get in the middle of that."

Toby hopped up on the tips of his feet. "You okay on your own, then? I gotta take that big guy."

"You can't assume you can use your gravity thing on him," Claire retorted.

Toby shrugged. "You ever seen 'The Empire Strikes Back', Nuñez?" He launched himself toward Gruthark before she could answer, because time _really_ was at a premium, here. He felt a moment of worry that he hadn't seen Rico in a while - although hints of things he'd heard from Eli suggested Claire'd know if Rico were in trouble.

He slammed into Gruthark's ankle with enough force that the troll stumbled. Toby swung himself around as Gruthark tried to take his balance, because immune to magic or not, it was hard to stay upright when you had twenty tons of high school student dragging one of your feet down (one of these days they were going to find an industrial or truck scale to figure out how heavy Toby could get, but it was _definitely_ over a quarter ton, given the number of scales they'd broken testing it).

Toby used the fact his foe was prone to sprint up Gruthark's form to his head and strike a blow that would have splattered most other creature's skulls to paste. Gruthark just snarled and twisted around, swinging his own hammer in response. Toby raised his own in defense; there was a trick to soaking up the force of an attack like this-

The hammer's blow still sent Toby flying back, enough strain in his arms that he was certain anyone else would have broken at least two bones. A grey and green form sped past Toby going the other direction, toward Gruthark, and Toby, picking himself up from the building (someone's house, that now had a Toby-sized dent in it) he'd struck, felt a little cheered. Without magic, only brute force was going to win this fight, and you couldn't get more brute force than the tag team of Toby Domzalski and Aaarrrgghh.

\---

To say the sand responded to thought failed to capture how it moved. It responded, Jim thought, to instinct. He would see an attack at the corner of his eye, and a sand whip would catch it and throw it aside, without any conscious intervention. It would try to hold the targets of his attacks down before he could think he needed to.

He suspected it contained a fragment of the _will_ of the creature he'd saved in the Deep, its responsiveness like the moments Arthur had taken control to protect Jim.

It wasn't good enough, though. He and Kellor together were...formidable. She had decades of experience, and him Daylight, one of the most powerful weapons in the world (somewhere in the rise from the Deep back to Trollmarket, he'd lost track of Excalibur - he wasn't certain, anymore, if it had been real or just a dream, if _any of it_ had been real).

But Gunmar had been fighting for over a thousand years. And it was all Angor Rot could do to keep Draal from tearing them apart. Jim was certain Angor Rot could kill Draal if he wanted to, could join the battle with Gunmar if he were willing to sacrifice one of his own knights in the process. But trying to keep from hurting Draal too badly meant Angor Rot could only just about match Draal to keep him from killing Angor Rot.

Gunmar sliced through Jim's sand whips and swung the Decimaar Blade at him; he swung Daylight up, a motion that nearly broke his arms with the force of the collision.

"You have a knack for survival," Gunmar said, shoving forward to pull back his blade. "So trying to _kill_ you seems like a waste of energy."

" _ **No**_!" Jim turned, and even Gunmar twisted in place to look back. Angor Rot was not wearing the Eclipse Gauntlet. He had cast aside his daggers, and he stood, head up, throat exposed, before Draal.

Gunmar grinned, wide and wicked. and Draal stabbed at the Eclipse Knight without hesitation.

Kellor screamed again, Eclipse Gauntlet held close to her, a desperate grip on what was now her only link to Angor Rot as he slumped over the blade buried in his chest.

But Draal blinked once, twice, looking down at Angor Rot. And between one breath and the next, something changed.

A rumbling growl rose from his chest, growing in volume, shifting until it was an agonized howl.

And Gunmar _flinched_. Jim stepped forward, swinging Daylight at Gunmar. Gunmar moved distractedly, almost dazed, but still skilled, still powerful enough, to knock Jim's attacks aside. Not enough to counterattack, though.

Draal's voice shifted to a furious warcry, and when he dropped his head, his eyes were a blazing pure gold.

Something in the air twisted and _snapped_. And the scream that rose above the battle was Gunmar's, confusion and agony twisted into a horrifying sound. Jim leapt forward again, but even as pained as Gunmar sounded, he pulled the Decimaar Blade up to block.

…He was almost too slow.

And as the blades collided, Jim saw _a crack running along the base of the Decimaar Blade_.

Draal and Arthur had taught Jim well; he did not hesitate to wonder what had happened, but pressed forward again, taking whatever advantage of his opponent's distraction he could. And Gunmar fell back, on the defensive as Kellor threw herself toward Gunmar with a furious cry.

And the Gumm Gumm king retreated toward Gruthark, his last remaining general, himself facing a furious and unrelenting assault.

\---

Blinky lobbed a dvark stone behind him to cover his path across the bridge to the Heartstone. There had been some discussion of defending the Heartstone during the battle, but Dictatious had wisely pointed out there was nothing Gunmar could do with the Heartstone that would not require hours of preparation, or more magical power than the Gumm Gumms had at their disposal. As a consequence, it was the quietest part of Trollmarket, and Blinky was certain where his brother had sought refuge when the battle began in earnest.

And indeed, as Blinky stepped into the halls of the Heartstone, he heard his brother muttering to himself. The background clamor of battle and the echoes of the empty space made the words incomprehensible, but the _tone_ was familiar.

He smiled despite himself, despite the raging battle for their survival. That Jim had sacrificed himself so Blinky could have this was a tragedy, but to have _this_ back - his _big brother_ \- left Blinky a little dazed when he would see Dictatious' scowl, hear the chatter of his voice.

He followed the sound of Dictatious' voice until he reached Vendel's office. They were near the center of the Heartstone, surrounded by warm golden light, the waning power of the Lord of Flowers' gift to the world. His desk and other decorations had been shoved haphazardly to the edge of the office. Dictatious was seated against an overturned chair, one arm bandaged and pressed against his chest.

"Dictatious! What-"

"Stay there," Dictatious ordered. "I'm fine. Or will be."

"Stay…" Blinky paused one step into the office and looked down. Intricate circles were painted along the floor of the office - dark, sketchy at places, but from the metallic scent of the room, not _paint_. "Dictatious, what _happened_?"

Dictatious shook his head, but growled when Blinky took a step forward. Blinky stopped, unwilling to upset Dictatious, but reached out a hand, cautiously, toward him. The motion of his own hand, though, drew his eye to one more detail he had not noticed on entering the room.

A chalice made of battered metal sat at the very center of the patterns of circles, which now that he saw the cup were clearly a set of intricate _spirals_. A vortex or path to guide energy to the center. Lines of _blood_ drawing power into the cup.

A _grail_.

Blood Magic of the _worst type_.

"Dictatious, _what did you do_?"

Dictatious looked at the grail and then back up at Blinky. Blinky didn't know what he'd expected to see in Dictatious' face - triumph, apology - but his brother just looked weary.

"If you makes you feel any better, Blinkous, you were right. It was never my purpose to release _Gunmar_."

There was a sound like a drop of water falling from a stalactite into a subterranean lake, and then the ground beneath him pulsed once, like a great heartbeat.

\---

Bular stumbled as the ground beneath him shook, and his blade went wide. Otto blurred and vanished again, and Frederick was certain this was a full-out retreat.

\---

Steve's last shot went wide as the cavern shook. Eli glanced toward where he'd last seen Toby for some sign the other boy was trying to take down the ceiling _again_ , but saw nothing of the sort. He _did_ see Jim standing over a prone form, Daylight raised for a final stroke-

And then an explosion rocked the cavern. It took a moment to recognize the source, but when Eli saw it, his breath caught in his throat.

The Heartstone was split down the middle, a wide corridor cut through it. And then something else struck Eli. It was not a compulsion, but a sudden awareness of his own worth - how little of it he _had_. Fighting seemed pointless in recognition of that. He saw weapons slumping, dropping, all across the cavern.

And then he saw a figure step from the broken Heartstone - short for a troll, slender, feminine in shape. Though her form was indistinct, Eli found tears gathering at his eyes taking in even a glimpse of her. He sank to his knees as she stepped forward; every other creature he could see was doing the same.

Save one. As she walked across the bridge toward Trollmarket proper, a black bird soared to her side and alit on her shoulder; her left hand, gleaming silver, reached up to caress the bird's beak. She turned her head to take in the battle before her. Eli saw one eye a brilliant emerald shade, and the other a bright sapphire. He dropped his head away from her gaze, uncertain if looking too long on her beauty would blind him, or if he was simply unworthy of it (he was unworthy, of course, but a glimpse made him weep, and he did not know what would happen if he allowed himself more than that).

She moved with unhurried grace, with the self-possession of one who was beholden to no one else's whim, no one else's time, and had no fear of any other creature. She walked toward Gunmar and Jim - her greatest servant and greatest enemy.

Eli saw a glimpse of Steve at the corner of his eye, kneeling, weeping, as all of them were in the face of Morgana le Fey's beauty.

And a sour note entered the harmonious song of Eli's thoughts.

It seemed right to kneel before Morgana, to turn his head away from her.

...But not for _Steve_ to do so. Prickly, independent Steve, who had decided, rather than join this war, to seek a way to end it. Who'd rejected the fascist, authoritarian Order of Dawn.

...And if it was wrong for _Steve_ to kneel before Morgana, what about _Eli_ , who Toby, Darci, and Aaarrrgghh would all agree was _better_ than Steve?

Eli rose cautiously. Doing so was like the optical illusion, the picture of a cup, in the moment when you saw the two faces. Because the soothing thoughts of Morgana's beauty, grace, and obvious superiority, no longer felt like his own, but were like a veil laid over his mind.

It was a fucking _glamour_. Eli pulled a knife from one of his faux-leather sheaths and broke into a sprint - he wasn't a quarterback, would _never_ be the athlete Steve, or even Jim, were. But Morgana didn't expect anyone to be able to _stand_ , much less _fight_ in her presence. She stopped in front of Jim and raised her right hand, a ruby-red dagger pointed toward him.

Eli screamed and leapt at her, slashing across her cheek with his knife.

She turned, green eye wide in shock as her silver (prosthetic) hand reached up to brush the wound. The skin around the cut was already hardening as the Creeper's Sun began to petrify the flesh nearest it. She narrowed her eyes at Eli and traced a half-circle along the cut and the stiffening flesh around it. A green-grey fluid began oozing from the wound, which began to knit closed as the skin around it flushed with color again.

"I have no time for your parlor tricks," Morgana murmured. She moved forward, impossibly fast, and grabbed Eli by his neck with her prosthetic hand, the silver holding him more tightly than any human grip could. Then she threw Eli back; he hit the ground hard enough to make his head swim, at least until he blacked out.

\---

The grip of Morgana's glamour lifted (and Claire filed that fact away - it took _effort_ to be so beautiful people would fall at your knees and weep at the sight of you) as the sorceress grabbed Jim's throat and hoisted him up above her head. She twisted Daylight out of his grip and tossed it aside. Though certainly as free to do so as the rest of them, Jim didn't struggle against her grasp, instead staring, eyes wide, at Morgana's face.

She plucked the Amulet of Daylight from Jim's chest with her silver hand and drew it close to her.

Claire didn't feel panic when she realized they'd lost. She'd never really expected them to win, not even when it was just Gunmar. Against Morgana? The Trollhunters didn't have a fully trained sorcerer among them.

And even if Claire decided to risk using the full strength of the Shadowstaff, she doubted its power would work against Morgana.

There was only one thing left to do.

Claire removed the Shadowstaff from her pocket and extended it, hands shaking.

"As the Amulet of Daylight is made of my flesh and blood, I claim ownership of it by the most _ancient_ of laws!" Morgana called out.

Claire didn't have to be able to envision it, didn't have to imagine _how_ it would happen. She just had to _want_ it, and open herself to the power flowing through the Skathe-Hrün.

 _Claire Nuñez, Tobias Domzalski, Steven Palchuk, Elijah Pepperjack, James Lake Jr., Barbara Lake_.

"And with that ownership comes the right to do _exactly_ as I wish with it!"

 _Walter Strickler, Rico Nuñez, Kellor, Aaarrrgghh, Blinkous Galadrigal, Draal_.

"Including _destroy it_."

Morgana's hand clenched around the Amulet of Daylight; the metal twisted and snapped, and Jim reached out his hands to catch the pieces as they fell.

No portal opened, not one or twelve. Twelve creatures, Claire and Jim included, simply vanished from Trollmarket, carried by Claire's will and Morgana's stolen power.

Gunmar had lost - despite his efforts, he had failed to take Trollmarket.

But the bloodshed had allowed Morgana to gather the power she needed to break free and win the day _herself_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The shadow-Jim's last words are basically taken verbatim from 'Fullmetal Alchemist', by Hiromu Arakawa
> 
> Frederick is an OC of Incognitophenomenon


	14. Hold Onto Anything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Those who survived Gunmar's invasion try to pick up the pieces.

**Days in the Future, But Not Many**

"My Lady." Gunmar knelt before Morgana, one hand over his chest. It was a far cry from their earliest interactions, when he had still believed _himself_ a match for her. "Our envoys to the other trolls have begun arriving. Gatto will commit nothing to our cause, but will not stand with our enemies."

"What of the Quagawumps? Usurna said their chieftain owes allegiance to the gravity witch."

"They have ousted Wumpa, and their new chieftain is more tractable than she."

"What of the River Trolls? There are tribes near Arcadia, certainly."

"No full tribe, My Lady, but we are working to bring those living near Arcadia in."

Dictatious appeared at Morgana's side and raised a hand. "My Lady, an emissary from the Yeti."

Morgana felt a thrill of excitement. The Yeti, as reclusive as the Krubera, had been creatures of myth even in the age of Arthur. They were said to be close to the Lord of Flowers before his disappearance - the secrets he would have passed onto them, secrets of the Golden Age of magic, of which Merlin had claimed knowledge, would be _invaluable_.

"Why did they not come to _me_?" Gunmar demanded.

"Perhaps they would prefer trusting someone who did not raise _two_ traitors to Her Grace's cause," Dictatious sniped.

"Your _brother_ is _bedding_ one of them!" Gunmar snapped. "Is one of the Trollunter's _staunchest_ allies!"

"The Trollhunter is not a concern," Morgana said; both of her servants fell silent. It was heartening they had learned early to do so without prompting - laying down a glamour to force obedience was disruptive, even if it _did_ act to remind the trolls of Heartstone Trollmarket the futility of further resistance.

"WIth all due respect, My Lady," Dictatious said, "While there are only two living creatures who can _construct_ the Amulet of Daylight, there are appreciably more who could _repair_ it. Between my brother and the human Elijah, they will know this; the Amulet of Daylight will _not_ cease to be a concern."

"Do you think I was not aware the Amulet could be repaired? That aside from Merlin himself, only a dragon might possess the strength to destroy it irreparably? They might repair the Amulet, but the Trollhunter James Lake will perish before they do so. And I do not fear _anyone_ they might replace him with. No, I have greater concerns."

"The child Claire? The skill she demonstrated stealing her friends away from you was considerable."

Morgana laughed. "But the _power_ she used was mine. She has opened herself up to me again, Dictatious. It is only a matter of time before she is _mine_ again. No. It is the child Elijah."

"My Lady?"

Something flew at Morgana from the entry to her throne room (built out of the prison in which she'd been held for centuries). Gunmar slammed the projectile down, an impressive display of his devotion to protecting her. It was a bag, from which something rolled as it bounced against the ground.

The head of a troll, severed from their body in a ragged cut. There was no fear or anger in their expression, as if they'd had no time to react to their impending death.

A slender troll covered in white fur (made of rock, but soft as down and as warm as any mammal's coat) stepped forward. Yeti were tall, wiry - Gunmar's general Gruthark likely had Yeti blood. But no less strong, no less dangerous, than the larger or bulkier races. They did not bow; Morgana almost projected her glamour to force it, but the Yeti stood tall, straight, refusing to look down at Morgana. Defiant. And she still felt a little shaken from the moment the human child, who should have been incapacitated by her glamour, had stood, had approached her, had _cut her_.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

"Verik," the Yeti replied. "Emissary of the Yeti. You sent a messenger, Morgana, demanding our fealty. This is our response - that of our king, the Lord of Frost." They spat at Morgana's feet. "If you wish to command the Yeti, you will come yourself and speak to the Lord of Frost. And he will kill you as he has your puppet."

Morgana narrowed her eyes at Verik. "Your Lord of Frost would make an enemy of me?"

"Gladly. _Joyfully_ , if you should demand he submit to you."

\---

**Weeks in the Future, But Not Many**

There was a custom - not quite ancient, but old enough that the source was a matter of debate, especially as it was found among many cultures - regarding newborn children. If you put a coin under your child's pillow - it'd settled in most societies at about the value of a quarter - until their first teeth came in, they would grow up safe.

It wasn't true, of course, as many pieces of folklore weren't.

But there was something of truth in it.

Toothiana was the last of the Sisters of Flight - a winged race of warrior women who had been slain by the Demon Alchemist. In the years following her escape from the destruction of her people, Toothiana had seen such wickedness she had nearly fallen into despair. And then she had met a pale, dark-haired child with golden eyes, and found new purpose - new hope.

There was a dark realm, a reflection of the world of light. If a human child were brought to that realm, their spirit could be linked to that of a troll and allow that troll to take a human guise. And a dangerous, wicked witch had come to exploit that fact to create an army of shapechanging spies - an army built on a foundation of kidnapping and violence.

Toothiana had investigated, once, and determined rescue was _impossible_. She had magic that could carry her through the eddies of reality that acted as portals to the Darklands, but on the other side was a realm so dangerous Toothiana had barely escaped with her life just looking _around_.

And that was just the _native fauna_. The Nursery, the prison in which they kept the children, was guarded by one of the most dangerous creatures in existence - _Fenrir_ , the wolf who would consume the sun to herald the end of the world.

So Toothiana had done her best. There was no way of knowing what children might be a target of the witch's kidnappers, but while Toothiana could not be in two places at once...what she could do was _close_. She could fragment her being into - some people called them faeries, though the Sisters of Flight were not fae. She shared much the same connection to them as a sorceress would her familiar, allowing her to scatter her presence across the world, to watch more than any single person could.

She could not protect everyone, but when she could, when she caught a goblin in the process of a kidnapping, she left a token, a sign.

A coin.

To signal that continuing to pursue that child would have dire consequences.

Tonight, she was roosting in her apartment in Bangkok when something began battering against her window. She rose and crossed to the window, a little perturbed. Her fragments, though only a little larger than a hummingbird, should be able to open the window themselves.

When she opened the window, one of her fragments fluttered inside, moving jerkily under the weight of the basket she held in her hands.

"What is this?" Toothiana looked into the basket and froze at the sight of a human child. "Where did you get this?"

The fragment began fluttering around Toothiana's head, chattering as if she couldn't communicate telepathically if she'd wished. The words went quickly, and made almost no sense.

"What do you mean, _gone_? Gunmar can't be _dead_."

The explanation was worrying, but the return of the Gumm Gumm king to the surface world wasn't strictly Toothiana's problem. She had a different responsibility.

"Still, that was incredibly reckless. Fenrir-"

The response was brief, and clear.

Fenrir was _dead_ , Gunmar waging his war against humanity, and the goblins...she could handle the goblins.

So one of her fragments, one more reckless than Toothiana herself could be, had made the journey to the Darklands to prove she _could_. To prove Toothiana could empty the Nursery and rescue the thousands of human children imprisoned there.

... _After_ she returned _this_ child, James Lake, to whatever worried parents had lost him.

\---

**Hours in the Future, But Not Many**

On Claire's delivery of them to the Nuñez home, the fugitives from Gunmar (more correctly from Morgana) had split up - the humans (plus Rico) to the hospital, and the trolls (minus Rico) to Strickler's residence to regroup. 

When Aaarrrgghh froze on entering the house, Strickler realized he had forgotten to warn the fugitives who _else_ would be there when they arrived.

"What - how - _what_?" Blinky demanded. Strickler edged past Aaarrrgghh, who was staring at Strickler's kitchen, where Bular, digging through Strickler's recycling, was staring back.

"Frederick isn't _dead_ , is he?" Strickler asked. Bular didn't seem to notice Strickler, and certainly didn't respond.

"Monty," Bular whispered.

"What…" Aaarrrgghh took a hesitant step forward, one hand up. "What are-" He looked away, finally, to Strickler, brow scrunched up in distress.

Strickler sighed. "I have long been involved in efforts to overthrow Gunmar, and part of that was securing a replacement. We had debated coming to you, Aaarrrgghh, but on your defeat of Bular, we saw an opportunity, one that has yielded substantial dividends. Is Frederick dead, Bular?"

"He commandeered your shower," Bular said, eyes still fixed on Aaarrrgghh. "He called it compensation for the fact he broke two nails trying to do your dirty work."

" _My_ \- I can't even get _into_ the place!"

Aaarrrgghh stepped forward again, Blinky trailing him a step. "Bular. You-"

Bular stepped around the kitchen counter and sank down to his knees, bending his head before Aaarrrgghh. "Aarghaumont. I'm sorry."

"...Sorry?"

"You left - Gunmar's service. For centuries, I have judged you, have mocked you - _hated_ you. I thought you were a fool. But now I see...you saw something I would not. That our - _my_ \- father is a tyrant and a monster, and did not deserve your allegiance."

"Strickler?" Aaarrrgghh turned to Strickler, his eyes wide, watery, hunched down. And Strickler realized - they'd been betrayed by Dictatious; Aaarrrgghh needed to know they could trust Bular before he let himself hope.

"Bular has been working with me ever since I rescued him from - well, Jim. He has assisted us in several key ways since then."

"Nearly got Otto Scarbach, too." Frederick, clothing a little rumpled, one of Strickler's towels around his neck, ambled down the stairs. "If that fucker hadn't made himself a fucking Amulet of Daylight-"

"Midnight," Bular corrected.

Strickler's heart skipped a beat. "What do you mean - an _amulet_?"

"He crafted something he called the Amulet of Midnight. It's how they opened the Killahead Bridge, and how Otto held the two of us off," Bular grumbled.

It was a worrying development, but perhaps no worse than any revelation they had encountered today - but then, everyone seemed to have their own concern. Dictatious' betrayal weighed heavily on Blinky, and that seemed to leave Aaarrrgghh conflicted in how to respond to Bular. Bular himself kept shooting Aaarrrgghh questioning looks. _Frederick_ was obviously concerned over Otto and the Amulet of Midnight, while Draal kept trying to consult with Blinky about plans to rescue the other inhabitants of Trollmarket, or take back their home.

Despite all of this, Strickler found himself most worried about Barbara Lake.

She had shown no ill-effects from the magic she'd used to save Strickler's life, meaning she had drawn that energy from someone else. And that left two possibilities - one unthinkable, and one impossible.

And as Strickler refused to believe Barbara Lake had succumbed to the vilest temptations of blood magic, to kill others to fill a grail with their lives, or channel the death around her into her magic, there was only one possible explanation, the _impossible_ one.

That the spilt blood Barbara had drawn upon to heal Strickler was _his own_.

 _No one_ had the knowledge or talent to use blood magic in such a way.

...Well, no _human_.

\---

**Just a Little Later Than That**

"Dr. Lake?" Dr. Lake jerked upward from her chair to where a stocky doctor stood, clipboard held close to her chest. Toby, hand still held tight in Dr. Lake's hand, stood more slowly, but felt his heart thudding hard against his chest. Jim had been unconscious since they'd escaped from Trollmarket, and he wasn't certain if he was ready for more bad news.

"Is he okay, Pilirani? I-"

"Jim's awake," the other doctor replied. "He asked for...Toby?"

"Well, we'll both see him, alright?" Dr. Lake didn't wait for a response, instead leading Toby along the halls to Jim's room. Jim was sitting up in his bed, gaze fixed on the door, when Toby and Dr. Lake came in.

Dr. Lake stepped to Jim's side and grabbed him up, holding him tight to her. "Jim! Thank god you're okay!"

"That's...not entirely accurate."

Dr. Lake didn't let go, but she stilled. Toby felt a skip in his heartbeat, and felt one hand clench at his side.

"What's wrong, Jim?"

"Um. Well, first of all, I'm not Jim."

" _Sloane_?" Toby demanded. Dr. Lake stepped away from Jim (or at least hs body), and Toby wished he remembered where he'd left his weapon.

"What? No! Do you think Sloane would tell you he's _not_ Jim?"

"...Gawain?"

"I'm going to save us a lot of time - _none_ of the Trollhunters are here."

Dr. Lake stepped closer to Toby, and he reached up to grab her hand.

"Can we get an idea who _is_ there?" Toby asked.

Jim (the person wearing his body) reached up to rub at his forehead. "It's a little complicated, because to explain I've got to tell you things about the Amulet of Daylight - things maybe one other person on the planet knows." He glanced up at Dr. Lake. "The first is...something he didn't tell you, Dr. Lake. By attuning to the Amulet, Jim consigned his soul to the Void - a demiplane that holds the spirits of all the deceased Trollhunters. He believed that meant his spirit would go there when he died.

"He was wrong. His soul was banished to the Void the _moment_ he attuned to the Amulet."

"Are you trying to tell me Jim's _dead_?"

Jim (not Jim, and Toby was beginning to suspect who this was, even though the 'why' still escaped him), shook his head. "No! No more than in the last year, anyway. I mean, if you define 'dead' to mean 'soul not inhabiting his body', he's been dead for months. But the whole point is the Amulet of Daylight created a portal, a connection between Jim's body and the Void."

"But the Amulet was destroyed," Toby replied, a moment before his heart dropped. "Oh," he whispered.

"Without access to his body, Jim can't animate it. Without access to his soul, his body will wither and die. So I sort of...took over. To keep things running. I'll give it right up once we've got everything sorted out, I promise!"

"You said _all_ of the Trollhunters were in the Void," Dr. Lake said. "Who does that make _you_?"

The boy hunched his shoulders, almost a flinch. "...You'd have heard him call me 'Arthur'."

Arthur, the spirit in the Amulet who could take control of Jim, like none of the Trollhunters could do. Arthur, the spirit who'd been able to speak to Jim when he was in the Darklands.

Who Jim believed had known the _first_ Trollhunter in life.

It was common knowledge that the Amulet was the first phylactery, an artifact that bound the spirit of a sorcerer within it. But Toby had heard the source of the Amulet's magic was Morgana's hand. And even if otherwise, no one had ever suggested the spirit was _aware_. But it was the most likely explanation for Arthur's identity.

"And who were you," Toby asked, " _before_ Merlin stuck your soul in that Amulet?"

\---

**Camelot, AD 517**

A young man, dark-skinned, dark-haired - not quite grown, but not young enough to call a child, sat in a smoky workroom with an old man - ancient, bearded, dressed in a slim jacket covered over with pockets.

"You understand, don't you?" the elderly man asked. The young man nodded. "And you _agree_? Morgana is dangerous."

"With all due respect, so are you," the young man retorted. 

"Ah, but _I_ am baptized and thus subject to laws of morality to which Morgana does not adhere."

"I always assumed you just told people that to distract them from questions about your parentage."

The old man shrugged. "Regardless. You _agree_ , don't you?"

"She isn't… _evil_ ," the boy said after a moment.

"Of _course not_! But there must be a _check_ upon her power."

The young man looked to the older one with a narrow gaze. "And what about _you_?"

The old man chuckled. " _No_ creature is without weakness, and I am no exception. But our concern is not _me_ \- it is Morgana, whom we both agree must have a check upon her power."

"...Yes," the boy agreed, quiet. After a moment, though, he looked up. "But are you certain-"

" _Sacrifice_ ," the old man said, apparently unaware of the question the boy had been about to ask. "That _is_ , I believe, one of the precepts of chivalry. Your brother, and cousin, if I recall correctly, are squires."

The boy winced, letting his head drop, looking away from the old man. "...That's right."

"Well, do not allow me to make you feel pressured. We do not sit at the cusp of any great disaster - you may feel to wait as long as you need, perhaps until Morgana turns her little experiments loose on us. What _has_ she been working on, recently? I heard her little bird practicing _dragon magic_."

"I'll do it," the boy said.

"Are you sure?" the old man asked. "I wouldn't want to do this if you weren't _certain_."

The boy nodded.

The old man slammed his palms against the desk between them and gave the boy a wide smile. "Well! That's alright, then." He paused and gave the boy a look up and down, smile fading to something a little more somber. "I wish I could tell you this won't hurt at all, but I've explained enough to you we'd both know that to be false." He tapped the pale blue stone sitting between them, nodding when it gave a high chime. Then he dug into a drawer to produce a slim knife of a dull, pitted metal. "Now, there's one last thing I need before we can begin: your name. Your _true_ name. Can't risk killing the _king_ using your little alias in this ritual."

The boy sighed. "...Mordred Pendragon."

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I'm tired when I posted this, so forgot to mention the title came from IncognitoPhenomenon


End file.
